


saying it outloud is hard (words are futile devices)

by idreamtofreality



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-14
Updated: 2019-06-14
Packaged: 2020-04-23 18:23:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 27,955
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19156456
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/idreamtofreality/pseuds/idreamtofreality
Summary: They meet through a penpal program. Spock is the most professional twelve-year-old in the universe, and Jim is sohuman. Somehow, though, they work. Somehow they fall in love.Artwork bySpockt





	saying it outloud is hard (words are futile devices)

 

# YEAR ONE

 

_Dear James Kirk,_

_The proposal program paired us together to_

 

Stop. Start over. James Kirk already knows that information; it would be redundant to state it at all, much less at the opening of the letter.

 

_Dear James Kirk,_

_As you likely already know, my name is S'chn T'gai Spock. On Vulcan, our family name comes first; you can refer to me by my personal name, which is simply Spock._

Stop. Is that awkward?

 

_Dear James Kirk,_

_It is summer here, when Vulcan is at its most beautiful._

 

Stop. Erase that column of text. That beginning is too familiar.

 

_Dear James Kirk,_

_I was pleased to_

Stop. Admitting emotion so freely makes Spock's stomach turn.

 

_Dear James Kirk,_

 

Spock stares at the tablet's glowing screen. His mind is as blank as the letter before him. Should he ask Amanda for help? She would be thrilled if Spock went to her, but Spock is twelve years old already, and part of this exercise is to make a friend on his own. Amanda's involvement would defeat the purpose.

 

 _Dear James Kirk_ ,

 

That one line is mocking him. Why doesn't he know how to continue? He's written dozens of letters to Vulcan scholars—professional letters—so why can't he do this?

His tablet chimes, now. Spock raises an eyebrow at the notification.

To: S'chn T'Gai Spock

From: James T. Kirk

Subject: HELLO!!!!!!

He opens the message. It displays first in scrawled standard, and then the translator overlays it with perfect Vulcan script.

 

_Hi Spock!!!! I'm Jim!! I'm eleven years old and I live in Riverside with my mom sometimes and my stepdad. Do you know where Riverside is? It's in Iowa on Earth! You're on Vulcan, right? What's it like there? What do you like to do? Write back soon!!!_

_-Jim_

Spock isn't quite sure how to react to any of this. He'd met humans before but…none like this. Is this what human children are like?

His tablet chimes again. This message is just a picture—a boy (Spock assumes it is Jim) with blue eyes so bright they're shining, dark blond hair, and a huge smile that makes the fat on his cheeks gather into a roundness that Amanda would deem "pinch-able." Below it, the caption reads: "This is me!!!"

Spock begins crafting a reply.

 

_Dear Jim,_

_I do live on Vulcan. It is a desert planet, and the architecture, landscapes, and cultures are all quite fascinating. I live here with my parents: Sarek, a Vulcan ambassador, and Amanda, a human scientist. I do not do much beyond my academics. I think my father is trying to prepare me to be an ambassador like him. Attached is a photo of me; credit to Amanda Grayson._

_Sincerely, Spock._

He inserts a school picture and presses 'send' before he can convince himself that it isn't good enough, and then he completely removes himself from the room. Amanda told him often that, sometimes, the best thing to do is walk away.

Sarek is in the living room—or, as Sarek likes to refer to it: the common area—when Spock enters, working on what looks like an official document on his tablet screen. He doesn't look up as Spock approaches, and Spock might have thought his father hadn't noticed him at all if he hadn't spoken just before Spock moved to the kitchen.

"Have you completed your schoolwork?"

Spock pauses. Slowly, he turns. "Yes, father."

"What of the extra assignments I organized for you?"

"Those are also complete, father."

At last Spock looks up from his work. He makes eye contact with Spock and lifts one eyebrow. "You are free, then, of your academic duties."

"Yes, father."

"Come assist me." It is more of an order than a request, as is everything Sarek says. Spock is about to give his reluctant agreement when Amanda sweeps in. She has an air about her—a mixture of maternal understanding and intelligent power, and Spock has always admired her for it. She is the one person who is never hesitant to disagree or even argue with Sarek.

"Mother," says Spock politely. Amanda presses her lips to the top of his head.

"Amanda." Though his face doesn't show it, Sarek almost sounds surprised. "I didn't expect you for another week."

"Meeting ended early." Amanda goes to give her husband a kiss, which he accepts with a pleased twist of his lips. "I still had the room, but I thought I could spend time at home with my two favorite people, instead."

"You could have explored," says Spock. "Earth is basically designed for tourism."

This makes Amanda laugh. She tousles Spock's hair. "I don't need to explore Earth, sweetheart. I used to live there. I'll take you sometime, though." And then she pauses, and she gets a little twinkle in her eye that makes Spock nervous. "Speaking of Earth."

He takes a small step away from her.

"Did you get in contact with your penpal?"

"Yes, mother."

"And?"

Spock shrugs.

"Oh, don't do that. What are they like?"

"Human."

This makes her laugh, too. "What's their name?"

"Jim Kirk."

The fond, amused look vanishes from Amanda's eyes and mouth. "James Kirk?" Spock nods. "Oh. The Kelvin baby. I know his mother."

The Kelvin baby—Spock is familiar with the term. Is that really Jim? He'd imagined someone much more…mature, he supposes.

"I wouldn't mention it, though," says Amanda quickly. "It's probably a touchy subject for that poor family."

"I hadn't planned on it," says Spock. He knows what it's like to be sensitive about family-related topics; if Jim managed to ever find information about Michael or Sybok—and then if he dared to broach the subject with Spock—Spock doubts he'd want to speak to him ever again.

"But he's a good boy? He's nice?"

Spock shrugs again. "I suppose so."

"Good." Amanda's smile is back, but it's tight—pained. "I want you to make friends, sweetheart," she says, and Spock sighs and replies as he always does.

"I don't need friends, mother."

[ ]

To: S'chn T'gai Spock

From: James T. Kirk

Subject: Re: Re: Hello!!!!

 

You look so cool, Spock! I love your hair! I looked up pictures of Vulcan, too—it's so pretty there! Maybe I can visit sometime and you can show me around! Also (I'm sure you get this a lot) I've heard of your parents before. Whenever my mom comes home, she always has something to say about one of them. What a coincidence that our parents know each other, right?

I guess I should talk about my hobbies, too. I'm really interested in cars and motorcycles (I know how to drive both, but don't tell my mom). I also want to learn how to play the guitar, but I don't have one yet. I'm still saving up.

What else are we supposed to talk about? I don't know how this penpal thing works. Let me know if you have any ideas.

 

\- Jim

[ ]

He opens the email he received one more time. His tablet has to think for a moment before it covers Spock's elegant Vulcan script with blocky Standard letters. Jim reads it over and then looks at the picture again. Spock looks so put together. Why couldn't Jim get a messy disaster of a person—someone more like him? They might have been able to connect more. Instead, Jim got the most professional twelve-year-old in the universe.

He switches to his mom's last message. She's worried about him, just like she always is. Not that it isn't warranted—Jim's still paying for wrecking his dad's car—but it's so constant. She's always, always worried. Jim almost wants to write back that, if she was really so concerned about him, she would spend more time at home.

He doesn't. He's selfish, but he isn't that selfish. He replies with something about how, yes, he likes his new penpal and, yes, he's staying out of trouble. Then he leans back and he chews on his lower lip for a long few seconds.

He's already bored.

The whole point of getting a penpal was to stay occupied. Maybe he needed more than one penpal so he could have more constant communication. Would they allow something like that? Maybe they'd actually pair Jim up with someone who experiences daytime during even slightly similar hours to Jim.

He tosses his tablet on his chair and stands, stretching out his back until it gives a satisfying crack, and then doing the same with his neck and each of his fingers.

He's so _bored_.

If he sneaks out again, Frank will notice. Jim's not an idiot—he noticed Frank putting up the cameras last week. Either Frank thinks he's a lot more subtle than he is, or he thinks Jim is really, really oblivious.

But…

Jim pushes open his window and sticks his head out. He can just make out the camera. It's a newer model, but one of the cheaper ones, for sure. Something designed for people who need a fast and temporary solution or for people who don't know enough about technology to know any better.

Jim ducks back into his room, stifling a grin. Of the two, Frank is definitely the latter. He picks his tablet back up and starts working at it. The cameras are connected to their wireless system instead of a separate network, which means Jim can pretty much bypass all of the security. All he needs is a password, and he can get around that with a brute-force attack he designed in the first grade and two and a half minutes of bored scrolling through his tablet.

His tablet vibrates in his hand. Jim switches back over to the system. There it is—full access to all of Frank's security cameras. They're constantly recording, and Frank will probably fast-forward through all of it to make sure Jim didn't sneak out, which means that slightly moving them to face away from Jim's windows won't work. But—and here Jim bares his teeth again in what's almost a smile—Frank didn't account for all the exits out of the house. If Jim can get past Frank's hunk of a sleeping body and gets either out of that bedroom window or that bedroom's bathroom window, he's free.

Jim's succeeded with worse. He did, after all, get away with stealing his dead dad's car for at least half an hour before someone noticed. That meant he'd gotten past about three complex security systems to get into the garage and then a fourth to get into the car. Sneaking past Frank might be a little different—there's more of a danger here—but Jim can do it. He's fast and he's light on his feet and he's a quick thinker. That's three things that Frank doesn't have. What does Frank have? Power. All Jim needs to do is stay out of his way.

He packs a couple sets of clothes into his backpack and shoves in some extra charges for his tablet. The battery should last about a week, but stuff happens, sometimes. He might be gone longer than he's planning.

He goes to his dresser next and pries open the false bottom in the third drawer, pulling out the small wad of cash he's collected over the past year or so. He's been wanting to spend it on a guitar but, again. Stuff happens. If he's longer than he's wanting (he's thinking he'll do a week this time), he'll need a way to get someplace safe.

He puts on a long-sleeve shirt, then a sweatshirt, then a jacket, and then his boots. Then he pulls on his jacket, puts up his hood, and starts toward Frank's room.

He's not really sure what he's planning on doing once he gets outside. He isn't sure where he wants to go. All he knows is that he doesn't want to stay inside, and that he doesn't want to be anywhere near Frank.

Jim pushes open the door. Frank's snoring. Loudly. He slips in and shuts the door behind him. The window's right across the room.

Jim takes one step. Frank snorts, rolls over.

Another step. Frank's still sleeping soundly.

Another step. Frank emits a low, guttural moan from the back of his throat. Jim grimaces.

Another step. Nothing. Silence.

Another step. He's almost there. Frank suddenly pushes himself upward. He looks around himself, but only forward—Jim's just past his line of vision. He looks left again. Looks right again. Collapses back into his bed.

Jim lets out his breath and moves the rest of the way toward the window, pushes it open, and crawls out.

[ ]

To: James T. Kirk

From: S'chn T'gai Spock

Subject: Re: Re: Re: Hello!!!!

 

Dear Jim,

I'm not sure what exactly we are meant to discuss. I reviewed the penpal brochure and all it said was that we should 'make friends.' I am still not entirely sure what that entails.

It is interesting, however, that you are so fascinated with cars and motorcycles. Do you mean those they stopped manufacturing on Earth in the twenty-first century in favor of public transportation and other more ecologically-friendly vehicles? I did some research. Is it safe to drive those?

If you do ever visit Vulcan, I will be pleased to show you around. If you do succeed in getting yourself a guitar and learn how to play it, perhaps we could even play our instruments together. I am proficient with a vulcan instrument; the two might sound pleasing together.

Are you in school yet? What are you studying?

 

Sincerely, Spock

[ ]

Spock rubs at his eyes a few more times. It's early. He doesn't know why, but he's tempted to get up early, now—the first day he messaged Jim, the reply had come almost immediately, but now they seem to have hours between them. If Spock gets up early, he might catch Jim before he goes to bed.

He never does. Either Jim's going to bed early, or Spock's waking up too late.

Spock pulls on his robe and pads out of his room. Amanda's cooking something in the kitchen—a flat bread she calls a "pancake." She offers one to Spock.

"Is it good?" he asks.

"Of course it's good. If it wasn't good, I wouldn't be making it."

"I'll try one."

"You want some berries on top?" She shakes a container of some bright yellow sunberries at Spock, and he nods. She sprinkles some into the pan on top of the cooking batter. "So…" She won't meet his eye. "Are you still talking with Jim?"

Spock picks out one of the berries and pops it into his mouth. "Why?"

Amanda sighs. She has to answer his question—they'd long since agreed that, if she had a question she needed answering, then Spock deserved an explanation for the question. "His mother contacted me the other day. I'd told her that you two were penpals and, well…apparently Jim ran away almost right after you two got into contact. His stepfather found out that he was missing the morning after he messaged you."

Spock blinked. "Why would I know where he is?"

"Well, if you can get into contact with him—"

"Maybe he had a reason to run away," says Spock. "What messages he has sent to me seem like he's in his right state of mind."

Amanda considers this. "He's only eleven."

"So? Was I unreasonable at eleven?"

"Well, no. But you're also Vulcan, sweetheart. You have a different way of thinking."

"I am also half human. Were you an unreasonable eleven-year-old?"

She considers this too as she flips over Spock's pancake. "No, not particularly."

"I think he deserves the benefit of the doubt."

"He's only eleven, Spock. Whether or not he has reasons for leaving, he still needs to be safe, and being on the streets isn't safe. If you have any information, Spock, can you tell me so I can pass it on to his mother? She just wants to know that her son is okay."

Jim hadn't mentioned anything about running away. He seemed fine in the messages he'd sent. If he was in trouble, though, would he message Spock? They barely know each other. There's no real reason that Jim would mention anything of the like.

"Spock," says Amanda. Her patience is straining.

"I don't know anything," says Spock. "We've not communicated much, mother. Even if we have, I doubt we would have exchanged information like that."

"You'll let me know, though, if you find out anything?"

"If there's anything I deem necessary for you or his mother to know, I will inform you."

Amanda slides the pancake onto his plate and reaches over to touch the top of his head. "Okay, sweetheart. Eat your breakfast. Do you want any powdered sugar?"

"No, thank you." Spock tears into the bread with his fingers and puts one of the pieces into his mouth. He chews thoughtfully.

"What's on your mind, Spock?"

"Nothing much," says Spock. "I'm just wondering why Jim would leave."

Amanda makes a humming sound. "Maybe," she says, "He'll feel comfortable enough to tell you one day. For now, you just have to be there for him."

"What if he doesn't want to go back?"

Her hand, halfway to ladling more batter into the pan, stops in mid-air. "I don't know, sweetheart. He's so young."

"Could he come here?"

"Well," says Amanda, "We would definitely have to talk to his mom about that. Do you think you'd want another pancake?"

[ ]

To: S'chn T'gai Spock

From: James T. Kirk

Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Hello!!!!

 

I don't know what that means either, honestly, so you're not alone in that. But yeah! It's totally safe. They run off this fuel called gasoline, and while it's REALLY flammable, I know how to handle it so that it won't ever cause any problems. It even smells cool, too. My brother doesn't like it, but I love it.

Also I'd love to come to Vulcan! I don't have nearly enough money (and probably won't for a while! I looked up the ticket prices and almost dropped my tablet!) to travel there, but maybe someday, right?

You play an instrument?? We should start a band! I'm also interested in singing, so we could totally make a thing out of it!

I am in school, but I'm not studying anything specific. I'm only eleven, so I'm only taking basic classes. Math and literature and science and all that. We don't really decide what we're doing with our lives until we get a little older. Is it different on Vulcan?

 

Jim

[ ]

To: James T. Kirk

From: S'chn T'gai Spock

Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Hello!!!!

 

Dear Jim,

Apparently our mothers are in contact with each other, and apparently I've been instructed to figure out where you are. I don't intend on doing that, unless you would like me to, but I very much doubt that you would. In any case, wherever you are, I hope that you're safe. If you need any funds, please let me know, and I can send you whatever I can spare.

As for my academics, I am studying both the art of diplomacy and science. My father wants me to go into the Vulcan Sciences Academy, but he also wants me to be an ambassador—essentially, he wants me to be a balance between himself and my mother. I don't know anything about bands. What would that entail? Would I have to sing, as well?

 

Sincerely, Spock

[ ]

To: S'chn T'gai Spock

From: James T. Kirk

Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Hello!!!!

 

That subject line's getting a little ridiculous. We may have to start a new thread soon, but I think I'm getting a little attached.

And, yeah, that doesn't surprise me. My mom's always worried, but I'm totally fine. I just like exploring sometimes. But thanks for the offer!

Vulcan Sciences Academy sounds cool! I've heard about that—it's so prestigious! It sounds hard to get into, but I'm sure you're smart enough!

You don't have to sing if you don't want to! I can do all the singing. All you gotta do in our band is play your instrument!

 

Jim

[ ]

To: James T. Kirk

From: S'chn T'gai Spock

Subject: New Subject Line

 

Dear Jim,

I came to the conclusion that you would never replace the subject line, so I took the liberty of doing so, though it is unfortunate that I was not clever enough to come up with something more creative.

You are correct in that the academy is prestigious. It will take an enormous amount of effort and time to gain entrance, but thank you for your confidence in me.

Are you still doing well? Despite your assurance that you are 'totally fine,' I cannot help but doubt this.

 

Sincerely, Spock

[ ]

To: S'chn T'gai Spock

From: James T. Kirk

Subject: Re: New Subject Line

 

You know what? I like the new subject. It's right to the point.

And yeah, I PROMISE. I'm fine. I've even found a pretty spectacular place to sleep. It even has a place to charge my PADD, which is good news for us, since we're the best penpals in the world, right? Keep me updated on your life, though. What are you doing over there? Anything interesting?

[ ]

To: S'chn T'gai Spock

From: James T. Kirk

Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: New Subject Line

 

We might be due for another subject line. What do you think. Something like "Newer Subject Line"?

The more you tell me about those pods you study in, the more I get mad. Do they seriously just isolate you like that? That's so weird. But also keep telling me more about the stuff you're learning!!!

In other news, I think I'm heading back home soon. I'm running out of funds. Believe it or not, 11-year-old's don't have a ton of money. You can be the most strategic money-user in the world (me), but money only goes so far.

Wish me luck. I'm going to have to face my step-dad again.

[ ]

To: James T. Kirk

From: S'chn T'gai Spock

Subject: Newer Subject Line

 

Jim,

May I inquire as to why I would wish you luck on your return? Are you safe?

[ ]

To: S'chn T'gai Spock

From: James T. Kirk

Subject: Re: Newer Subject Line

 

You liked the subject line! But also I couldn't help but notice that, a. You didn't say anything about what you learned in school, and b. You didn't sign it. You feeling okay? Any fever or anything? Can vulcans get fevers?

[ ]

To: James T. Kirk

From: S'chn T'gai Spock

Subject: Re: Re: Newer Subject Line

 

Jim,

If you do not wish to answer my question, all you need do is tell me so. There is no need to change the subject so many times.

 

Sincerely, Spock

[ ]

To: S'chn T'gai Spock

From: James T. Kirk

Subject: Re: Re: Re: Newer Subject Line

 

It's nothing against you. My stepdad just…well, we've never gotten along. I'm sure you know about my birth and everything. Basically, after my mom lost my dad, she was like "Well, I have two kids and also a career that I love, so how am I going to take care of them?" And Frank was the answer. I don't think she loves him and he definitely doesn't love her (maybe her reputation? I don't know). Me and him don't get along, but his relationship is WAY worse with Sam. He ran away but sometimes he comes back and he just fights the whole time.

Sorry to dump all that on you. It only took me a couple months to start venting at you! I think that's a record.

Anyway, I'm home now. Frank yelled at me some but I think he's relieved he won't have to answer to mom anymore. I'm holed up in my room and pretending I'm not twelve.

[ ]

To: James T. Kirk

From: S'chn T'gai Spock

Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Newer Subject Line

 

Jim,

That sounds serious. I am sorry you have to experience that. Is there anything I can do to help?

 

Spock

[ ]

To: S'chn T'gai Spock

From: James T. Kirk

Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Newer Subject Line

 

Nah. Don't worry about it.

[ ]

To: S'chn T'gai Spock

From: James T. Kirk

Subject: .

 

Hey Spock. Sam came home.

[ ]

Jim puts his head on his desk and lets out his breath. He can hear Sam and Frank fighting even over the music blaring through his headphones. He doesn't know if he'll be able to last much longer like this. He might just leave again. It doesn't matter if he has no money left—he won't be able to get through this alone.

As if one cue, his tablet lights up with a new message. It's from Spock, but it only has a link. Jim clicks on it and the screen loads a few seconds before Spock's face appears.

"Wh—Spock?" Jim sits up straighter, even though he knows it won't help; Spock is dressed and composed and sitting perfectly straight in his chair. Even the room behind him looks neat and composed. Jim, on the other hand, is slumped in his chair, dressed only in a ratty t-shirt and boxers, lit by the artificial blue lighting of his tablet screen. Jim is a cave gremlin in comparison to Spock's professional businessman.

"Jim," says Spock. Like everything else, his voice is smooth and careful. How the hell, Jim thinks, is he twelve? "I thought I would keep you company."

Somehow, the sound of his voice blocks out everything else. When Jim speaks, his own voice sounds strangled. "Thanks. Don't you have school?"

Spock shrugs. Every move he makes is irritatingly graceful. "I took the day off."

"Why?" Spock doesn't seem like the kind of person to skip class.

"As I said, I thought I would keep you company." Spock types something into his computer. "I just told my parents I didn't feel well."

"And that _worked_?"

"I am Vulcan, Jim." Something sparkles behind Spock's dark eyes. He's so much more expressive than Jim could've ever imagined. "Vulcans don't lie."

This surprises Jim so much that a laugh bursts out of his chest, and then, so surprised that he laughed while Sam and Frank are fighting (which _never_ happens), he laughs again. "Spock," he says, "That's horrible."

"I had the opportunity, so I took it." Spock types more at his computer and then looks directly into the camera. "Even if I was a worse actor, my parents are both busy, anyway. They don't know any different."

"I…didn't think you'd break rules," says Jim. He'd liked Spock before, but he likes him even more now.

Spock just gives him an offended look. "That's quite presumptuous of you, Jim. I've broken no rules. At no point have my parents ever forbidden this."

Jim laughs again, louder this time. He props his tablet on his desk and then rests his head in front of it, smiling at the image of Spock. "Why haven't we ever talked before, Spock?"

"Conflicting schedules," Spock says, moving his gaze up and to the left. "We live on opposite clocks. I think, however, we were just both nervous." He pauses and studies the screen. Jim wonders if he's looking at him. "Do you want to talk about it?"

Jim suddenly realizes that Spock can probably hear Sam and Frank screaming at each other. "Uh…I don't know."

"You don't have to." Spock is so calm Jim's envious of it. His stomach is still in knots over the fact that he's speaking to his friend for the first time. "We could talk about something else."

"Yeah." Jim lets out his breath. "Let's do that." He moves his tablet, now, over to his bed, and lies down next to it, giving Spock a tiny smile. "What are you doing?"

"I'm studying human ethics. I thought I'd multitask while talking with you."

"Is it interesting?"

"Yes, I would say so."

"Why are you studying human ethics?"

"My mother wants me to understand at least some aspects of my human heritage."

Jim can't stop staring at Spock. He's so…perfect. Everything about him is perfect. "Can you read some to me?"

For a moment, Spock doesn't say anything, and Jim's afraid he'll make fun of him. But then Spock opens his mouth. "Arguments," he says, "Against moral objectivism."

Jim closes his eyes and lets Spock's voice roll over him—lets the smooth hum of it lure him to sleep.

 

# YEAR TWO

 

To: James T. Kirk

From: S'chn T'gai Spock

Subject: Re: sam finally left!!!!!!!

 

Dear Jim,

I'm sorry your brother's left, but at least he won't argue with your stepfather. Perhaps you can finally have some peace and quiet in your house.

I'm meeting my betrothed today. I don't know anything about her, but my mother insists we'll get along. I'm not entirely sure about that; there are not many vulcans with whom I 'get along'. Do you have any advice on that front? Let me know.

 

Sincerely, Spock

[ ]

As soon as he hits 'send,' his tablet starts buzzing with an incoming video call. Spock swipes to answer.

"Hey, Spock." Jim's face fills the screen. As per usual, he's dressed in a white t-shirt, but the rest of him is hidden under his huge down comforter.

"Jim." Automatically, Spock adjusts his shirt. Jim has never been formal with Spock and likely never will be, but Spock still can't help putting on a performance of competence whenever they call each other. "I just emailed you."

"Yeah, I got the notification." Jim rubs at his eyes. He has huge dark circles underneath each of them, so dark they almost look like bruises. It wouldn't really surprise Spock if they were bruises. "I'll read it and replying the morning. I just wanted to see if I could catch you before you went out."

"You called at a good time," Spock says. "I still have half an hour. Did you have something you wanted to talk about?"

"Yeah." Jim offers a smile now. It's a naturally mischievous smile; Spock's not entirely sure how much control Jim has over it. "I found a colony I want to go to."

Spock blinks. "Pardon me?"

"A colony, Spock. You just need to pay for the shuttle." He smiles wider and leans closer to the camera. "If I save enough money, I can finally go back to space. It'll be like a practice run for when I come to Vulcan."

"Will your mother be going?"

"What?" Jim's lip curls. "No! Why would she come?"

Spock rubs his hands together. "I just…you seem so young to be making a trip like that on your own."

"Oh, come on, Spock. I'll be thirteen by then. That's old enough."

"I'm thirteen now and I can promise you that it isn't old enough."

"Don't be such a buzzkill, Spock. Besides. A whole bunch of my friends are going too. THey'll keep me out of trouble."

"If your friends are anything like you," Spock says, "I very highly doubt they'll be keeping you out of anything."

Jim laughs. "Don't be rude."

"I would never deign to consider such an act, Jim."

The laugh turns quiet and the smile turns soft.

"You should get to sleep," Spock says. "It's getting late."

"Yeah, I know. Call me before you go to sleep, okay?"

"Will do."

After they both hang up, Spock finishes getting ready. He pulls on his robes, tucks his tablet into the folds, and fixes his hair. Amanda raps her knuckles on the door.

"Spock? Are you about ready to leave?"

He opens the door. "Yes, mother."

T'Pring is waiting for him at a small tea shop. Amanda drops Spock off with the promise that she'll be back to pick him up in an hour ("You'll be _fine_ , sweetheart. She's one little girl. She isn't going to hurt you.").

"Little girl" isn't exactly the right description for T'Pring. She's still thirteen—a few months younger than Spock, he learned—but she seems so much older and more mature, and the disdain with which she regards Spock when he approaches her is palatable.

"The rumors I heard about you were true, then," she says as greeting.

"What rumors are those?" asks Spock.

"Your human features." She turns and starts moving toward one of the window tables. "They're quite prominent."

It has been a while since anyone pointed out how human Spock looks. What vulcans taunted him as a child started avoiding any interaction with him after he turned eleven, and Jim—not only a human, but a human who has been video-calling Spock for several weeks now—hasn't noticed. "I have been told," says Spock, but his words come out stiffer than he intends. "Once I would have taken that as an insult."

She glances back at him with what seems almost like curiosity. "And now?"

"Now," Spock says, "I understand that I need not be ashamed of my human heritage. I have control over my emotions. Have you ordered the tea?"

T'Pring examines him for a long moment. There is such a sharp intelligence behind her gaze that Spock is almost nervous to meet it. "Yes. I am sure you will find it acceptable."

Inwardly, Spock releases a sigh of relief. Whatever test T'Pring was holding him to, he passed. The subject's changed. At least for now, they're almost on equal ground.

[ ]

To: S'chn T'gai Spock

From: James T. Kirk

Subject: Re: Re: sam finally left!!!!!!!

 

Betrothed??? You're ENGAGED/????? How did I not know this??? I wish I'd sucked it up and read this email last night so I could actually talk to you about this because I have SO many questions. Actually, you know what? I'll probably ask when we call, since we'll be talking in, like, ten minutes.

In other news, I've attached some information about that colony, if you want to look at it. It looks legit. Apparently all the extra supplies are going to be delivered by vulcan ships every week. Maybe you could sneak onto one and visit?

[ ]

"Betrothed, Spock?" Jim can't help but ask as soon as Spock answers the call, and Spock just gives him a very tired look. "Seriously? I feel…I don't know, betrayed? Why didn't I know this?"

Again with the tired look. Jim's never seen Spock so completely exhausted before. "There are many things you do not know about me, Jim." He says this so seriously that it just wipes Jim's brain for a moment. His mouth opens, and then it closes, and then it opens again.

"What's going on, Spock?"

"You do not need to concern yourself with it, Jim. You should not have to burden yourself with my problems."

"Come on, Spock. I've told you about all my issues. You know you can trust me."

Still Spock hesitates. "It is not within vulcan nature to have such issues, much less complain about them."

"So? You're human. Humans have to let this stuff out or it'll eat them up." Jim taps his hand to his chest. "Trust me, I know. You helped me when I needed to vent about Frank and Sam. That's what friends do. Now talk to me, Spock. Come on."

Spock looks very, very, very tired.

"Spock," Jim says. He wonders, briefly, if he's being annoying, but he also knows that Spock will just keep holding everything in if he doesn't say anything. "What's going on?"

Finally Spock lets out his breath. "I've been betrothed to T'Pring since I was very young," he says. "Our parents arranged the marriage. While humans marry for their emotions, vulcans marry for the benefits. My and T'Pring's arrangement is no different."

Jim feels something. He doesn't know what he feels, but he definitely feels something. "Is she, uh. Is she nice?"

"She is vulcan."

Jim doesn't really know what that means. The only vulcan he's really done any amount of talking to is Spock.

"It does not matter, either way, if she is nice," Spock adds after a moment. "We will get married either way. We just need to learn to tolerate each other."

"But you won't be happy." Just the thought of this makes Jim want to cry. He has a sudden vision of the future—being on Vulcan visiting Spock, Spock living in a tense home with a beautiful vulcan woman who doesn't make him smile, Spock pretending to be okay through all of it.

"That does not matter, Jim."

"What? Of course it does."

Spock closes his eyes. "Not to my father."

In the year and few months that Jim has known him, Spock's only talked about his family a handful of times. Jim—Jim talked about his family all the time. He knew almost nothing about Spock's family—just that his father is a diplomat or an ambassador or something and his mother is…maybe a scientist? "What do you mean?" he asks.

"Despite my father having married a human woman and producing a child through that relationship, he prefers to pretend I have inherited none of my mother's human characteristics."

"Isn't that…I don't know, illogical?"

Spock smiles a little. "Yes. Perhaps it is. There is not, however, anything that I can do to change that. My mother does not know how to help. If she encourages me to embrace my human characteristics—namely my inability to properly suppress my emotions—she risks my being subject to further humiliation on behalf of my peers. They have left me alone since I have gained more control over myself, but if I returned to displaying emotions…they would not hesitate to point it out."

"What, so nobody's allowed to have emotions on Vulcan?" Jim's incredulous. He can't imagine a world without emotion. The only glimpse he's had into Vulcan has been full of emotion, even if Spock doesn't always show it on his face.

"Not necessarily. If I pursued ambassadorship like my father, they might even praise it. Vulcan abrasiveness is often the cause of failed diplomatic meetings. If I could be both vulcan enough to pursue the interests of my people while also being human enough to effectively communicate with emotion-ridden species, I would be perfect for the job. However, I am pursuing science, and vulcans believe that emotions have no place in science. Emotions give way to bias, and bias gives way to inaccuracies. If our science is inaccurate, we will not make advancements. The Vulcan Sciences Academy would never accept such a student into their ranks."

That is…a lot of words. It takes Jim a second to process all of it.

"I do not expect you to understand this struggle that I have," Spock says quietly. "But thank you for listening."

"Spock…"

Spock looks at Jim and waits, but Jim isn't sure what he wants to say. Spock was so helpful when Jim was having issues, and now Jim's drawing a blank. Spock trusted him to have this information, and Jim's drawing a blank.

"If you ever need to let out all your emotions," Jim says, "You can talk to me. You know that, right?"

Spock gives him a small smile that Jim can only describe as pretty. "Yes, Jim."

"If you choose to keep going forward with this Vulcan Science Academy thing and you need to hide all your emotions around all the other people, you can just…well, you can just let them out around me. You shouldn't have to hold all that in."

"Thank you, Jim."

"Do you have anything else you want to talk about?"

Spock shrugs. "Just that my father does not approve of our relationship."

"What?" Jim isn't really surprised—parents rarely approve of him being friends with anyone—but he's still a little insulted. "Why?"

"It is not an insult toward you or your character," Spock assures him. "He just dislikes you because you are human. He disapproves of our friendship exactly because of what we just discussed: he thinks that you'll encourage me, either consciously or subconsciously, to embrace—and worse, display—my emotions. Moreover, he worries that this will interfere with my ability to succeed in life."

For some awful reason, this makes Jim laugh. Spock stares at him. "Sorry, I just—seriously? You're the most driven person I know, and you're still a kid. There's no way I'm going to interfere with your life like that."

Spock allows himself a flicker of amusement, too. "Yes, it is ridiculous. I have tried to explain to him several times how illogical it is for him to make such assumptions, but he will not listen."

"I mean." Jim rakes his hands through his hair. "He married a human woman, right? Did that hold him back at all?"

Spock snorts—actually snorts!—and that makes Jim laugh more. "My father is intelligent, Jim," he says, "But that does not mean he is smart."

Jim just loses it. For five minutes he just laughs, and Spock laughs with him.

"Thank you, Jim," Spock says when at last they both catch their breaths. "I feel much better."

"Any time, Spock. Really."

[ ]

To: James T. Kirk

From: S'chn T'gai Spock

Subject: Re: I'm so tired my eyes are going to fall out

 

Dear Jim,

I've never heard of such a medical condition, though I must admit I am quite unfamiliar with human anatomy and its associated illnesses. That being said, I do have a modicum of advice to offer:

Get more sleep, Jim. It's the middle of summer for you. This should not be an issue.

(And I think my answer to your question should be obvious at this point: no, I have never felt like my eyes would, in any way, vacate themselves from my head. I have been tired, however; my father could never deign to permit otherwise.)

Moving forward, I thought you would find interesting the Vulcan Science Academy (yes, I am still studying to attend) discovered a new strain of fungus yesterday. Biologically, it's very interesting. I'll attach the papers they've written so far so you can look it over.

How close are you to getting your guitar? Are you still buying it, or are you using those funds for the shuttle?

 

Sincerely, Spock

[ ]

He hovers in front of the computer for another few minutes, just in case. Usually Jim will call around this time to say goodnight to Spock; it's become a bit of a ritual for the both of them.

Nothing.

Still nothing.

Someone knocks at the door, and then it swings open. Sarek says, "Are you working on your school assignment?"

"I'm about to begin," Spock replies.

"Why haven't you already? You've been up for an hour."

"I…" Spock looks back at his computer. It's finally begun ringing. "I was going to speak with Jim before I started."

Sarek's eyebrow rises. Spock knows him well enough to understand that such an expression indicates disapproval. "You still insist on maintaining that relationship?"

Still ringing. Spock itches to answer it. "What do you mean to imply, father?"

"The reason for beginning this communication was for you to socialize more with your peers, but you have peers with whom you converse, now. At this point, your relationship and continuous interaction with this human is only hindering your ability to succeed in life."

It's stopped ringing. There's a pause, and then it starts again.

"I should get that," says Spock, stiff. "It would be rude to keep him waiting." It's one of the few arguments that works on Sarek; as an ambassador, his attitude regarding social norms approaches that of a cultural relativist. If something is rude, he'll mostly likely refuse to involve himself.

So he backs away with a vague promise that they'll "discuss this later." Spock doubts they will. Sarek has a meeting later and will likely forget about the whole thing in favor of remembering some assorted diplomats' names.

Spock answers the call and Jim and his bright blue eyes light up the screen. Jim's frowning.

"Is everything okay?"

Spock waves a hand. "Everything's fine. I was just conversing with my father. How was your day?"

"A-maze-ing," Jim says. "Sorry it took so long to call you. I was looking over your email. And the paper, of course."

He'd read the paper that quickly? Jim never failed to surprise him. "Did you enjoy it?"

"A little dense for my tastes. Academic vernacular doesn't have to be pretentious and wordy to still be academic. The best papers are the ones that are understandable to the masses."

"Jim."

"But, yeah, it was interesting. Wild how we're still discovering things. I mean, it makes sense that we are, but it just…" He lifts his hands. "I don't know. Isn't that amazing? IS this the kind of thing you'll be working on when you go?"

"It's likely. I do have a keen interest in plants." Spock leans close to the camera. "What did you do today that made your experience so incredible?"

"Oh!" Jim disappears from frame for a few minutes, but his voice still comes through Spock's speakers. "I went downtown today and did some shopping. My mom's actually in town and made some horrified noises as soon as she saw my closet, so, you know, she insisted we go out and find ourselves some nice, reasonable shorts to wear instead of the, and I quote, 'garbage horror rags' that I have now. I think she also wants me to wear slacks. Can you imagine? Slacks? On me?"

Spock, who's never seen Jim in anything but sleepwear and blankets, just makes a noise of agreement.

"Anyway, while we're out and about, I spot this music store. It looks like the perfect spot between way too expensive and totally run down. I go inside. I see this guitar on the wall." Jim's face comes back onto Spock's screen. "And she's a beaut, Spock."

"I'm sure," says Spock. Jim disappears again.

"So obviously I fall in love with it, because it's amazing, but I'm nervous to check the price, because it's so _nice_ and I'm _so poor_ , but I do it anyway, and guess what!"

"What," says Spock, because he knows that's what Jim wants him to say.

"It was on sale! For less than what I'd been planning to pay!" Jim thrusts the instrument into view of the camera. "Look at it!"

Spock inspects it. "It's beautiful," he says.

"I know!" Jim sits back in front of the camera, hugging the guitar to his chest. "I love it so much!"

"Have you tried playing it yet?"

"No. My mom said she'd ground me until my next birthday if I make her lose any sleep tonight since she has this big meeting soon. I'll probably practice when I wake up. You'll remind me, right?"

Spock adds the reminder to his phone. "Very well."

"But tell me about you! Any plans for today?"

"Just studying," says Spock.

"Ugh! Boring."

"It probably will be. You should get some sleep, Jim." Spock touches the monitor and Jim's expression softens. "I'll talk to you tomorrow morning."

[ ]

To: S'chn T'gai Spock

From: James T. Kirk

Subject: Re: Re: am considering running away to the woods

 

No, Spock, I'm not going to actually run away. I was only half serious. Maybe like at the most 72% serious. Either way, I'm too chicken to actually go through with it, so you have no reason to worry about me. None.

I'm sorry your dad's being such a dick tho (am I allowed to say that?). Do you want me to come beat him up for you? I might be small but I have a lot of experience in fights and could totally kick his ass.

Also!!!!! I've been practicing with my guitar more. I'm a pro now.

[ ]

The great thing—well, one of the great things—about Spock is his punctuality. Jim always sends his emails around the same time because Spock always calls at the same time. If he thinks he might even be a minute late, Jim can be sure he'll get some sort of message about it.

Sure enough, Jim's PADD starts ringing at the exact right time: 2300. He plays cool and lets it ring a few times before he picks up. Spock, like always, is impeccably put together—perfect hair, perfect skin, perfect clothes, perfect posture. Did vulcans have puberty? Because it wasn't touching Spock. Jim's fairly certain he could die happy if he saw the disheveled version of Spock even once. It would be enough.

"Firstly," says Spock  instead of offering a greeting, "Though you are—both within the confines of the law and within the boundaries of our friendship—allowed to insult my father in any way you please, no, I do not wish you to attempt to cause him any sort of physical harm."

Jim fights a grin as he lets out an overly-loud, overly-dramatic groan. "Oh, come on, Spock. You're just afraid I can't beat him."

Spock squints at him. "On the contrary, Jim. I am not afraid at all. I am actually quite confident in your inability to inflict damage on him. You seem to forget that he's a Vulcan, and you are a twelve-year-old human."

Okay, ouch. "You don't have to rub it in," says Jim, who isn't really offended at all. "I could always get lucky."

For some reason that makes Jim burst with laughter, Spock actually considers thsi. Jim can almost see him doing calculations in his head. "I suppose," says Spock, "That it would be possible for you to, as you say, 'get lucky,' but the odds are stacked in my father's favor."

"Oh, that's okay. I'm used to beating odds like that."

Spock's expression is cute—somewhere between amused and worried. "Tell me more about your guitar, Jim. You said you've been practicing."

"Yeah!" Jim pulls his guitar from where it's tucked between his desk and his bed. It's a better location than wherever he'd been keeping it before. "I learned another song."

"Will you play it for me?" asks Spock.

It's been like this recently—Jim learns a new song and Spock, who definitely has homework to work on, always says that he wants to hear it, and so of course Jim plays it for hi, and Spock, physically incapable of being anything but supportive, watches and listens instead of doing his homework.

Like he always does, Jim says: "Will you work on your homework this time? For real?"

And Spock, like he always does, replies with a little quirk of his mouth and a, "I'll try, Jim."

Still as per usual: "If you don't study for the Academy, Spock—"

And still: "I know, Jim. Now play the song."

And Jim picks up the guitar and starts strumming.

 

# YEAR THREE

 

To: S'chn T'gai Spock

From: James T. Kirk

Subject: Today's the day

 

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[ ]

"You have everything you need?"

"Yes, Spock."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, Spock."

"Your ticket? Your money? Your admission?"

"Yes, Spock." Jim turns to smile at his computer screen. "I promise, man. I'll be fine."

"You'll stay in contact, though," says Spock anxiously.

"Of course, Spock. No amount of space travel will stop that. Plus"—he wiggles his eyebrows—"our schedules might actually line up."

"That would be nice."

"Right? Plus, I'll be more prepared if and when I ever make it to Vulcan."

"Which you will."

"Which I will." Jim laughs. "That can be the next project I save up for. We can call it 'Operation get Jim to Spock.'"

"The title is a little long, but I do appreciate how informative it is."

"We wouldn't want to get confused."

Spock's shoulders are finally relaxing some. "No," he says. "We would not."

Jim closes up his backpack and tests its weight. He still has his PADD to pack and doesn't want to go over the limit. "What about you, Spock? What are your plans for the year?"

"Nothing nearly as exciting as exploring a new colony, I'm afraid. I'll likely just be studying while you're away."

"But it'll be worth it," says Jim, "Right?"

"I hope so."

"It will." Jim makes his voice firmer. "And then you'll be a super famous scientist and I can come live with you in your super nice house."

The corners of Spock's eyes turn up. He looks unbearably sad. "I'd like that, Jim."

[ ]

To: S'chn T'gai Spock

From: James T. Kirk

Subject: this is A M A Z I N G

 

Spock!!! It's so pretty here!!! The sky is this really pretty deep purple!! I've attached pictures for you so you can see it.

And there's NO need to worry, I promise. I've been with my friends since we got on the shuttle and we even met some more people to hang out with when we arrived. The food is really, really good and the people are really, really friendly. Seriously, don't worry about me.

[ ]

To: S'chn T'gai Spock

From: James T. Kirk

Subject: Re: Re: this is A M A Z I N G

 

Yeah I tried to set up some video calling but there's still shoddy connection here. My mom's getting all nasty at me because of that too, believe me. But I do have enough of a connection to keep sending emails and pictures, so I'll keep doing that.

Is your dad seriously still giving you grief? I'm thirteen now, Spock. I can take him.

[ ]

To: S'chn T'gai Spock

From: James T. Kirk

Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: this is A M A Z I N G

 

I just met this group of Vulcans staying here. They're way more uptight than you are, Spock. They call themselves "Symmetrists." I'm not super sure what that means because they weren't really willing to explain their beliefs to a "mere child." I'm going to try not to be offended at that.

[ ]

To: S'chn T'gai Spock

From: James T. Kirk

Subject: Re: Symmetrists

 

Alright, noted. Staying away from the symmetrists. Was your dad really a part of them? Even if he did leave, like, immediately, that still seems really out of character for him. He seems like the most non-radical person ever.

You haven't talked much about yourself. Are you doing okay? Are you eating enough?

 

[ ]

To: S'chn T'gai Spock

From: James T. Kirk

Subject: Re: Re: h u n g e r

 

Okay, it isn't as bad as I made it out to be. I'm not that hungry, and I don't mean to complain, but I really feel like they're giving us less and less food. I'm going to do some poking around tonight. Wish me luck.

[ ]

To: S'chn T'gai Spock

From: James T. Kirk

Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: h u n g e r

 

Despite the number of expletives in your email (I'm impressed, Spock. I didn't know Vulcans knew that many swear words) I did, in fact, go anyway. Could you send me that fungus paper again? The one you sent me last year, if you still have it. I can't access it through my PADD.

[ ]

To: S'chn T'gai Spock

From: James T. Kirk

Subject: Re: Where are you?

 

I'm still alive. Sorry for not messaging you for so long. I think something's going on here, but I'm still not sure what.

[ ]

To: S'chn T'gai Spock

From: James T. Kirk

Subject: Re: Please reply

 

h

[ ]

Spock pushes away from his computer, the free hand that's not clutching his chair so hard the knuckles turn pale swiping the information from his computer to his PADD. He runs from his room.

"Father!" he bellows.

Sarek appears within moments. "Is there a reason you're raising your voice, Spock? You know there's—"

Spock doesn't have time for this. "Jim's in trouble. We need to help him."

"Spock, I do not have the time to entertain whatever antics into which your human friend has coerced you."

"You said the symmetrists were radicals," says Spock. He pulls up the email he'd sent to Jim weeks ago and jabs his finger onto the screen. "You said they would go to extremes to accomplish their goals."

"I did," says Sarek, mildly.

"So they went to the extremes on Tarsus IV. Jim's in danger."

"What proof do you have, Spock? The symmetrists haven't made a move in years. Their radicalism, even when I was a part of their organization, was limited to clandestine meetings. The Federation hasn't even considered them an issue for at least a decade."

"That doesn't mean they aren't making a move now. Look." He switches to Jim's emails now. "They've been coming less and less frequently. Two months ago he was concerned with the amount of food he was receiving. A week after that, he investigated the food supply, and then he asked me to send him a paper on the fungus the VSA discovered last year. Two weeks after that, he sent me this email, and then today he sent me this."

Sarek blinks at the last email. "That is…an h."

"There's something wrong," says Spock. "It has to have something to do with the symmetrists. Why else would they be there?"

"Scientific curiosity."

Anger swells in Spock's chest and then it bursts. "Don't be so pig-headed!"

Sarek just looks at Spock.

"You _know_ there's something wrong! Even if you didn't—even if there was just the smallest possibility—it's your diplomatic duty to investigate! You _need_ to send supply ships."

"The supply ships are scheduled to arrive in less than a month."

"That's too long. You need to send them _now_."

There's a long, long moment of silence. Then Sarek says, "Fine. I'll put together a convoy to investigate."

"You'll go personally?"

Sarek's lips twitch, which is the vulcan equivalent of a sigh. "Yes."

"I'm going with you."

Another twitch. "No, you are not."

"Take me with you. I'll be able to find Jim." These words come without Spock really having to think about them, but somehow he knows that they're true. He _would_ be able to find Jim. The boy is an expert at running away and hide and seek, but Spock knows him. He'd be able to find him.

"If there is something wrong," says Sarek, "The vulcans I take with me are going to be more than capable of finding one thirteen-year-old boy."

Spock crosses his arms.

"I won't change my mind on this, Spock. Now, go do your schoolwork. I will keep you updated."

[ ]

To: James T. Kirk

From: S'chn T'gai Spock

Subject: We're coming

 

I'm coming, Jim. If you can read this, I'm coming, and I'm bringing help.

[ ]

He finds a comfortable place on one of the supply ships to hunker down and wait. Vulcans are careful, but they also don't find it necessary to check their supplies once they've already checked them. If these were humans, Spock never would have been successful—humans are nervous creatures. They're constantly making sure they did well. Vulcans know they did well.

He feels the ship lift from its loading dock and he grabs hold of the straps that keep the supplies down on either side of him. When they go into warp, it's all Spock can do to keep himself from slamming into the wall behind him. His hands and wrists feel bruised from holding on so tightly.

"This is the USS Clay, requesting for dock." The captain's voice echoes throughout the speakers. Spock cracks open one eye. He hadn't realized he'd closed them. "This is the USS Clay, requesting for dock," the captain says again. Why isn't anyone replying? What had happened?

Then, so quiet Spock almost misses it: "You are clear to land."

The pilot lowers the ship onto the colony planet. Spock has to think fast—he hadn't planned what he would do to get off. Would they see him? Would it matter? What if they took him to Sarek before he was able to find Jim?

He unhooks his hands from the straps and slowly pushes himself upward. The ship's crew probably won't be opening the doors until they're sure they need the supplies, but Spock doesn't know how long that would take. He might only have a few minutes.

He creeps around the storage bins toward the maintenance door ad tugs on it a few times. Locked.

 _Please enter the password_.

Spock stares at the blinking panel screen.

_Please enter the password._

He doesn't have a password.

 _Please enter the password_.

Behind him, the doors slide open. He can hear the ship's crew talking.

_Please enter the password._

He types "Amanda" and the door slides open. He slips through right before the ship's crew reaches him.

Tarsus IV is, indeed, beautiful.

Spock sneaks around to where the rest of the vulcans are gathered and listens carefully to their conversation.

"From what we can gather, half the colony was wiped out," one of them is saying to Sarek, who's staring grimly at the long line of people gathered by the medical ships.

"Do we have names?"

"We're getting the names of the survivors now, but compiling a list of the deceased will be…far more difficult. The bodies are…well, you'll see."

Sarek turns toward Spock suddenly and Spock ducks out of sight, his heart pounding. _Half_ of the colony was gone?

"Check a name on the list for me."

"Yes, sir. Which name?"

"James Tiberius Kirk. Thirteen years old."

Spock can barely hear anything over the thundering in his ears.

"Not in the survivors, sir."

Spock's entire body is trembling. He peeks again toward his father, whose mouth is set in a grim line.

"Did you know him, sir?"

"No. He was…a friend of my son's. Begin a list of the deceased as soon as possible."

No. No, Jim isn't dead. He can't be dead. Spock would have _felt_ it. He would have sensed it.

He isn't dead. He's just very, very good at hiding.

Spock starts running from the ships. He doesn't know exactly where he's going, but he lets his legs move beneath him, because they seem to have an idea.

Where would Jim go? On Earth, he liked going toward trains or forests or he'd head toward the beach, but he was alone on Earth. Jim knew that he and the other people on Tarsus were in danger—he wouldn't just leave those people behind.

He would have gone someplace where he could keep more than just himself safe.

Spock's gaze moved across the expanse. There were a few houses in ruins—the result of laser fire, it seemed—and a few larger buildings. None of them seemed to have enough cover to hide while also being big enough for several people to fit.

His gaze stops on an arena.

That's promising. It's collapsed some, but there would likely be more than enough room and more than enough cover for Jim and anyone else he might have taken with him to hide.

Spock runs toward it. "Jim? Jim!"

Nothing. Silence. The door to the arena is caved in, but Spock finds a small tunnel in one of the collapsed walls, kept open only by what looks like a huge metal beam. Spock kneels by it and peers inside. He sees bodies and immediately understands why the officer had been so cagey with his description—they're black and bloated into horrifying caricatures of people. And the stadium is filled with them—just through the tunnel, Spock can see at least twenty of them. He gags, but he slides through the tunnel anyway, because he knows Jim is in here. He can feel it.

"Jim?" He steps carefully around the bodies and the rubble. "Jim, are you in here?"

He hears some hushed whispering somewhere to his left, and he's afraid to turn around.

"Spock?"

Relief makes him weak in the knees. He turns and there's Jim, shorter than he imagined, hair longer than it's ever been, face and clothes completely covered with dust and blood. He's pulling himself from a small space underneath the stadium seats. "Jim." His name falls from Spock's mouth and then he's sprinting toward the other boy, catching him only a moment before he falls.

"What are you doing here, Spock?" Jim's voice is weak.

"I brought help. I brought the supply ships and Starfleet security. Jim…" Spock brushes Jim's hair out of his face. His skin is so hot, but he's shivering. "Jim, you're going to be okay."

"The ships, I thought—" Jim's voice catches and he swallows back a sob. "I thought they'd found us."

"You're going to be okay." Spock pulls Jim to his chest and holds him there as Jim cries into his shirt. "I've got you."

"The kids. I got some out of my cabin." Jim, still clutching Spock, half-turns. "Come out. It's okay. He's a friend."

Three children come out—children! Spock feels nauseated again. He swallows it down. "You're all going to be okay," he says. "Help is here."

Jim's barely strong enough to walk on his own—Spock can't imagine how long it's been since he's had a decent meal or a good night's rest—but he still helps Spock get the children back to the ships. Sarek spots them as they come closer, and his eyes move from Jim's face to Spock to the child Spock's cradling in his arms. His gaze meets with Spock's.

"The symmetrists," Spock says, and Sarek nods.

"We suspect so. They had help. We are conducting the investigation. Get them onto the medical ship."

Spock's more than grateful that Sarek's postponing the lecture. He's never been shy at reprimanding Spock in front of others, but he understands now that Spock didn't have a choice. Spock never has a choice when it comes to Jim.

"Is that—" Jim coughs into his hand. "Is that your dad?"

"Yes."

"He's." Jim coughs again. "He's hotter than you said.

Spock, against everything, laughs. "Jim, that is inappropriate."

Jim laughs too, but it's an alarmingly weak laugh.

"Do you…Do you want to talk about it?"

"No. Not right now."

Spock helps get the children to the medical ship and then sits Jim down away from the others. "This isn't really how I imagined we'd first meet," he says, and that makes Jim do that weak laugh again.

"Me neither. I thought I'd at least be dressed."

"You can't really tell," says Spock. "There's enough dirt on your sleepwear that they could easily be mistaken for everyday wear."

One of the doctors comes over and starts their examination. Jim's hand seeks out Spock's hand and, when their fingers find each other, he holds on for dear life.

"Thank you," he whispers. Spock can't answer. All of his emotions have gotten stuck in his throat. "You're just like I pictured, you know."

"We've video-called each other." Light humor is somehow easier to express than whatever Spock feels for Jim in this moment. "I would certainly hope I look like you expected."

"No, you're—you're taller than I thought. But you're…" He stops to open his mouth for the doctor, stretching his tongue out as far as it'll go. "You look good."

"I wish I could say the same for you." Still tightly holding onto Jim's hand, Spock reaches out and combs his fingers through Jim's hair. "I'm so sorry, Jim. I should have sent help sooner."

"And I should've saved more of the kids," Jim says. "Don't blame yourself, Spock. I don't know how to thank you enough."

"You don't need to. It's enough that you're alive."

Jim closes his eyes. Spock sees another tear slip down his cheek and he pulls Jim's hand to his mouth.

"You will be okay, Jim. I promise."

[ ]

To: Amanda Grayson

From: S'chn T'gai Spock

Subject: I am fine

 

Mother,

I went with father to help Jim. I am sure he will be sending you information about this soon, but I want to assure you that I am fine, and I did not run away. I will be returning as soon as I know Jim is okay.

 

Spock

[ ]

Jim can barely grasp his surroundings. Distantly, he's aware that the ship is moving, that Spock is holding him (Spock! some gremlin in his brain hisses with glee, but Jim can't quite grasp the same happiness), that every now and then a medical examiner comes around and pulls at Jim's face. He's not sure if he's able to process any of it. The events on Tarsus are drowning everything else out. He can still see that man's face hovering in the corner of his mind, the cruel glint of his gaze.

"Jim," Spock whispers from next to him. His voice is even clearer and smoother than it is through all of the mornings and nights they video-called. "Can you stand?"

Stand? Jim blinks at Spock a few times, confused.

"We've arrived. They want to get you inside a medical facility."

Jim opens his mouth. He wants to say that he can stand—that he can walk—but the only thing that comes out is, "Don't leave me."

The look that Spock gives him is so soft and gentle that everything comes rushing back at once and the tears just start falling out. "Jim," says Spock, his voice the most serious it's ever been, "I'm not going to leave you."

He stands, then, and Jim can't make his legs move to stand after him, and Spock doesn't make him. Instead he just bends down, puts his arm under Jim's legs, and lifts him into the air.

"Do not worry about it," Spock says before Jim can say anything (or maybe he did say something and didn't hear himself). "Vulcans are naturally stronger than humans. Carrying you is of no bother to me."

Jim puts his arms around Spock's shoulders and holds on tight.

"And do not worry about them separating us," says Spock into Jim's hair. "I will not let them."

Won't let them, indeed. When the medical professionals try to convince Spock to let Jim rest, Spock tells them in a short, clipped tone that Jim has been suffering isolation amongst strangers for over a month and then adds, his perfect eyebrow lifting, "Is it your intention to further traumatize him, or would you rather move aside?"

After that, nobody bothers them. They even bring some blankets and pillows for Spock to use, which Spock folds up and leaves on one of the chairs.

"Are you hungry?" Spock stays right by Jim's bed except for the occasional retrieval of sustenance. "Thirsty?"

Jim shakes his head.

"I'll get you water," Spock decides, and he steps into the bathroom to fill one of the little disposable cups in the sink. Jim can't keep it down. He can't keep any of it down. Every time Spock tries to get him to eat or drink something, Jim's hugging the porcelain less than an hour later, Spock hovering behind him, rubbing his back and wiping at his forehead with a wet washcloth.

"You don't have to stay," Jim finally whispers, his throat too raw for anything else. "I know I asked you to but…you don't have to stay." From what Jim understands about Sarek, he's probably getting upset at how long Spock's been gone.

"I already said that I will not leave you, Jim."

Jim sniffles and leans away from the toilet. He can only imagine how red and splotchy his cheeks are right now. Everything hurts in a way that he knows is incurable with medicine. "I've disappointed you."

"What? No, you have not disappointed me." Spock's fingers find their way to Jim's hair again, brushing it all back so it won't hang into the toilet bowl. "Of course you have not disappointed me. Why would you—"

"I'm pathetic." Jim can't look up to meet Spock's eyes. "I've never been put together before but this is pathetic."

Spock's arm finds its way around Jim's shoulders. The tears come out again like waterfalls at his touch. "I am not friends with you because of how put together you are, Jim. I am friends with you because you remind me every day that there is beauty in the universe. That is not always an easy thing to remember on Vulcan."

Now Jim chokes on a laugh. He scrapes the tears off his cheeks with the edges of his palms. "Yeah? You see any of that beauty now?"

Spock's silent for a few seconds. Jim just wants him to say no, he doesn't—or that now he finally sees Jim for the disaster that he is, or that he doesn't want to be around Jim anymore now that they've met and Spock can see the truth. But instead: "What I see," he says, careful, "Is a boy who's survived far more than anyone should ever endure and still keeps going. What I see is a boy who refuses to stop fighting."

At last Jim feels strong enough to look up at Spock. The light in his eyes is enough to make Jim feel suddenly exhausted. "I don't _want_ to keep fighting. I'm tired. I just…I just want to be done. I just want to stop."

Spock presses his lips together.

"And I keep disappointing you, and I hate it. I hate all of this."

"You aren't disappointing me, Jim. All I want is for you to be okay."

"But what if I'm never okay?" Jim knows that he's dumping things on Spock that he doesn't deserve to have to hear, but he can't help it. "What if everything just keeps getting worse?"

"Then I buy us two tickets to get us away from our problems and we live out the rest of our lives gardening and drinking tea and stargazing." He pauses, and Jim can see what's almost a trace of a smile on his face. "I think you would be good at being old."

Jim wipes at his eyes again. "You can't do that. You have the Academy."

"You are more important than the Academy."

Jim's mouth tastes sour. "Don't say that."

"It is true. You are my best friend, Jim. The Academy is just a means toward a career, and careers can be replaced. You cannot."

"You can just get different friends."

Spock gets up and grabs another washcloth. He runs it under water, wrings it, and then wrings it again. "Jim," he says, and Jim eyes him as he accepts the washcloth. "I did not feel comfortable discussing this before, because I have always been ashamed of it, even as I know how illogical shame is, but it is not as easy for me to make friends. You always talked about the different things you would do with your own friends, but it is not the same with me. Before you, I had no one. If you choose to discontinue our friendship—if I lose you—I will have no one again."

"Are you guilting me into staying alive?"

"That is not my intention. I just mean to illustrate that you are more important than you think you are, Jim. You are more significant than you think. Your absence would leave a hole the universe could never fill." He kneels down again and puts his hand on the side of Jim's face; Jim leans into his touch. "Can you hold on for me?"

All Jim can do is nod and bury his face in the crook of Spock's neck.

[ ]

To: Winona Kirk

From: S'chn T'gai Sarek

Subject: Urgent. Please reply.

 

To Commander Winona Kirk:

Tarsus IV, the colony to which your son James Kirk moved two months ago, experienced an act of terrorism on behalf of the Symmetrists, and subsequently had a food crisis. One of the residents there, a Governor Kodos (now deceased), took it upon himself to orchestrate a massacre that wiped out half the population to save the remaining residents. James was one of the survivors. At present, he is at the Federation Medical Base 765M receiving treatment for malnutrition, dehydration, and severe psychological trauma. I would advise your immediate arrival.

If you have any questions, please do not hesitate to contact me.

 

Sincerely, S'chn T'gai Sarek

[ ]

Winona Kirk bursts into the room at three in the morning, her hair wild around her face, her chest heaving. Spock sits up, alarmed, but Jim, knocked out on twelve different kinds of medications, doesn't even stir.

Spock doesn't recognize her. He slides out of bed and stands protectively over Jim. "Ma'am, visiting hours are over."

She's a beautiful woman. There are lines etched deep in her face that tell a story of years of hard work and restless nights. The way she stands is distinguished, but when she sees Jim behind Spock, her shoulders collapse. The relief is clear on her face.

"You're Spock?"

Uneasy, Spock takes a step backward. "Who are you?"

"My name is Winona Kirk. I'm—" She presses a hand to her mouth, but she won't move closer to Spock, which makes him feel a little better. "I'm Jim's mother."

"Oh." Spock steps aside and Winona rushes forward. Her hands hover over Jim, never touching. "Where have you been?"

"I didn't get Sarek's email until just recently. I wasn't receiving any communications. My mission—" She shakes her head and looks toward Spock, her gaze full of anguish. "How is he?"

"Not good. I'm sure you heard about what happened on Tarsus IV." Winona nods. "Jim was present for all of it. He was able to get away and hide in a nearby building, but… It will take him a long time to recover."

"Oh, honey. Honey." Winona kneels by Jim's bed and puts her hand on the pillow right beside Jim's head. "My baby," she whispers. "I'm so, so, so sorry."

Spock, unable to confront the raw emotion in her voice and the way a tear so quietly slips down Jim's cheek, steps out of the room. He curls up in one of the chairs outside Jim's room and waits, his arms hugging his legs to his chest. He feels empty. He feels alone.

"Spock." Sarek appears right in front of him, and Spock once again is startled. He hadn't heard him approach. "Are you ready to leave?"

"I need to say goodbye," Spock says. "He's still sleeping."

Sarek's mouth twitches. He looks down the hallway, toward something that Spock can't see. "You can't wake him?"

"This is the first time he isn't having nightmares. I won't ruin that." Spock drops his legs to the ground. "I can take the next shuttle back, if you need to get back home. I have access to all of my schoolwork here."

Sarek nods. "You will stay in contact, I presume."

"Of course."

Once Sarek's gone, Spock digs out his PADD and starts scrolling through his assignments. He doesn't have much to do—just some quick equations—but he's too tired to concentrate. He hasn't really slept at all during his stay here; his time has been completely consumed with watching over Jim, whether it was making sure he was fed and hydrated, keeping him comfortable, or comforting him after nightmares. The only sleep he's had were the few minutes he'd lost control of himself and slipped into unconsciousness.

"Spock?" Winona's at Jim's door and peeking her head out. "He's still asleep, but you can come back in here."

Spock jumps to his feet. "That isn't necessary, ma'am. I would not want to interrupt your time with him."

"It's okay. It doesn't really count since he's still sleeping, anyway." She glances back into the room. "I need to talk to some people about what happened on Tarsus IV. Will you watch over him while I'm gone?"

"Yes, of course."

"Thank you." She starts to move away, and Spock's immediately taken with everything he's wanted to say to her up to this point. He wants to demand that she divorce Frank, that she get back in contact with Sam, that she at least tries to patch together Jim's life enough that he can heal properly. The vulcan side of him begs him to stay cool and logical; the human side of him screams for him to say something. "He's miserable," he finally says. "He's absolutely miserable." But she's already gone, and Spock's speaking only to an empty hallway.

He goes back into Jim's room and slides onto the hospital bed with him. Jim, silently, presses into Spock's side.

"Don't leave," he murmurs.

"Not without saying goodbye," Spock promises.

[ ]

To: Amanda Grayson

From: S'chn T'gai Spock

Subject: Re: Re: I am fine

 

Mother,

Thank you for understanding. If all goes to plan, I will be returning home on the next shuttle.

 

Spock

[ ]

Spock's arms are wrapped around Jim's waist. His face is buried in Jim's hair. Jim can feel every rush of hot hair that Spock releases when he breathes out, and it's one of the most comforting things in the world.

As soon as he moves to get out of bed, Spock's awake and alert.

"How did you sleep?"

Jim shrugs. He hadn't had another nightmare, but his entire dream had been tangled with feelings of hunger and loneliness. It was almost as bad.

"Are you hungry? Thirsty?"

"No. Who was here last night?"

Spock's face falls a little. "Your mother."

"My mom came?"

"She's still here. I think she's conversing with some officials regarding…" Spock's voice trails off, like he's afraid saying "Tarsus IV" will trigger Jim into a panic attack or something. He might be right. "She should be returning as soon as she knows you're awake."

Jim looks down at his hands. "What does that mean…for us?"

"Well." Spock slides out of the bed but turns to put his hand on Jim's shoulder. "It likely means we'll have to separate and go to our own respective planets."

Jim feels nauseated.

"But that doesn't mean that we're going to stop talking, and it doesn't mean that I'm leaving you."

Jim wants to point out that, physically, Spock _is_ leaving him, but he also knows the point that Spock's trying to make here. He won't stop being friends with him. He'll keep talking to him.

"And that means," Spock says, continuing a tangent that Jim had apparently not heard, "That you have to keep in contact with me, too. Can you promise me that?"

"I don't know," says Jim.

"Can you try?"

"I guess."

Spock's eyes are full of something that Jim can't confront. He looks away again, past Spock and out the window. "Jim, I don't want to lose you." His voice is so earnest that it almost makes Jim want to cry. He swallows hard.

"I said I'll try, Spock."

"Okay." Spock squeezes Jim's shoulder once, and then he lets go. "That's enough for me."

[ ]

To: James T. Kirk

From: S'chn T'gai Spock

Subject: Regarding your health

 

Jim,

How are you doing? Please let me know. I am worried about you.

 

Spock

[ ]

He's been sleeping restlessly for the past few nights. There still hasn't been any reply from Jim. It's been, to use an old human expression, radio silence. Even Sarek is noticing Spock's change in attitude. He recommends, tense at breakfast one morning, that Spock see a medic.

"I will make an appointment," Spock replies, just as tense.

"Spock." Amanda reaches across the table and puts her hand on Spock's wrist. "Are you worried about Jim?"

"He still hasn't contacted me."

"He might be under lockdown."

"My wife." Sarek shoots Amanda a glance that she returns with just as much ferocity.

"Don't do that, Sarek. Spock deserves to know."

"It isn't a matter of deserving or not deserving. The boy is—" He cuts himself off and shakes his head. "Spock does not have the clearance."

"He's his best friend, and he was there," Amanda argues. "Winona has already said that she's fine with Spock knowing."

"You spoke with Commander Kirk?"

"Of course I did. We're friends. We've been in frequent contact since Jim was born."

Spock looks between his parents. "To what are you referring?"

"Jim's under protection from the Federation," Amanda says, and at Sarek's noise of disapproval, she just waves a hand. "He is one of only nine survivors who saw the man who orchestrated the massacre. The Federation—Winona in particular—fears the man responsible has enough loyal followers to go after those survivors."

"So…" says Spock.

"So Jim might not be contacting you because he's caught up in that. I wouldn't be too worried about it, sweetheart. Now." She points her fork at Spock's plate. "Finish your dinner."

[ ]

To: S'chn T'gai Spock

From: Winona Kirk

Subject: Jim

 

Hello Spock,

I understand how strange it must be to receive an email from your friend's mother, but I thought it necessary and got your contact information from your own mother.

I'm contacting you because I have some concerns with Jim's health. He hasn't moved from his bed in some time, and none of the therapists or psychiatrists I've brought to the house have been able to help. I'm running out of people to use. He can't just speak to anybody—I'm sure you're aware he's under Federation protection after what happened on Tarsus IV. Have you spoken to him yet?

 

Regards, Winona

[ ]

Jim won't move.

He refuses to move.

There's something inside his chest that is trying its best to pull him into the center of the earth.

His room is starting to smell.

Jim closes his eyes.

"Sweetheart?" Jim hears the door crack open. "Honey, the new doctor is here to see you."

Jim doesn't move.

"She's really nice," Winona continues. "I've talked with her a bit. I think you'll like her."

Jim doesn't move.

"She has a lot of experience, sweetheart. She can help you."

Jim doesn't move.

The door closes.

[ ]

To: James T. Kirk

From: S'chn T'gai Spock

Subject: Please call

 

Jim,

I've called you a few times already, but either I keep missing you, or you don't want to answer. I understand that you're in pain, Jim, and I want to help you. Please don't give up. Please call me whenever you're available. I will pick up.

[ ]

Spock's in the middle of a big assignment when his PADD starts buzzing on his desk. He exits out of the document and swipes the call onto the computer.

"Jim. Jim?"

Jim's face flickers onto his screen. He's curled up in his bed. There are huge bags under his eyes and his hair still hangs into his face. Spock has to wonder when he'll get a haircut—if he'll ever get a haircut. "Hey, Spock." His voice is quiet, but it fills Spock with so much relief that he goes weak in the knees.

"How are you feeling?"

Jim shrugs. "Better."

"You don't have to lie."

"Okay, I don't feel better."

"Have you tried playing your guitar at all? That always makes you feel better."

"No."

He doesn't offer an explanation, and Spock doesn't press for one. "Okay," Spock says, "I might have an idea." And he gets up from his desk.

"I just called to let you know I was still alive," Jim says. "You don't have to stay online with me. You're probably busy."

Spock, halfway to his closet, pauses and looks back at the monitor. "I already told you that you matter more than my schoolwork."

"I don't want to."

"Unfortunately," says Spock, "We don't get to choose these things." He finds the case he was looking for and drags it out of his closet.

"It'd be easier if we stopped talking," says Jim. "You could get on with your life. Marry T'Pring and all that."

"We've discussed this already. There is no getting on with my life without you." Spock opens the case. "Have you ever heard of a ka'athrya?"

"No." Jim pauses and narrows his eyes. Even as the trauma crushes him and the nightmares consume his every waking moment, his curiosity always prevails. "It sounds vulcan."

"It is." Spock pulls it out of its case and lifts it onto his lap, where Jim can see it. "Humans call it…a vulcan lyre or a vulcan harp. There isn't really a term that directly translates. Would you like to hear some?"

There's a flicker of amusement in Jim's eyes. It's small, but Spock sees it, and it makes him feel a jolt of hope. "Are you any good?"

"I got second place in a competition."

"Who got first?"

The corner of Spock's mouth lifts up. "My father."

Another flicker of amusement. Jim slightly releases the tension in his body. "Okay. Impress me."

Spock starts playing. He begins gently, caressing the strings with just the tip of his index finger, and then he goes in more steadily, his fingers plucking with confidence a tune that Sarek used to play for Amanda, that he played later for Spock as a child, that Spock played even later when his chest ached for his brother. He hasn't played in years, but it comes naturally now, and with each soft breath that Jim releases—with each ghost of a smile that flashes through Jim's gaze—it comes easier and easier.

Jim slowly falls asleep, and Spock keeps playing.

 

# YEAR FOUR

 

To: S'chn T'gai Spock

From: James T. Kirk

Subject: .

 

I'm available again this evening if you want to call. You don't have to if you don't want to. Obviously.

[ ]

"Jim." Spock shakes his head a little as soon as Jim answers. "Of course I want to call you."

Jim doesn't answer. Lately he hasn't really been talking; the past few months have largely just been him silently listening to Spock play for him.

"I hope you slept better last night," Spock says. He pulls experimentally at one of the strings and it makes a reverberating sound that echoes in Jim's chest. "I played something a little more gentle that time. Did it help?"

Still Jim doesn't answer, but he knows that Spock won't mind.

"I will play something more exciting for you today," Spock says. "This was the song that got me second place in that competition. I hope it will not disappoint."

He starts playing this plucky tune that makes Jim feel an itch of a smile coming on. This is Spock, he thinks. Spock. Spock, who's always been there. Spock, who always picks up the phone. He sits up slowly—Spock notices but doesn't point it out—and grabs his guitar from where it's growing dusty by his bed. Tentatively, he rubs his thumb along the string. It takes him another few seconds to get used to the tune, and then he starts strumming along, and then he's humming under his breath, and then he's singing.

When he looks back up at the camera, Spock is beaming at him.

[ ]

To: James T. Kirk

From: S'chn T'gai Spock

Subject: T'Pring, once again.

 

Jim,

T'Pring contacted me yesterday asking me to meet with her for lunch. I am not sure what her motive is. Maybe she really does want to get to know me. I hope she'll forgive that I find that doubtful.

[ ]

"Anyway." Jim stretches out across his bed and yawns. "In conclusion. My mom is super thrilled that I'm finally coming out of my 'hole' as she calls it. And it's all thanks to you."

"Give yourself credit. You're stronger than you think."

Jim lifts his shoulders at Spock and gives him a dazzling smile. "But you really did help, Spock. And speaking of being stronger than I think!" Now he rolls his eyes and releases an exhausted sigh. "I'm starting school again soon."

"High school?"

"Yeah. It'll be my sophomore year, since going to Tarsus apparently counted as credit. Worldly experience and all that. It was supposed to be a study abroad kinda thing, and we definitely didn't do any studying, but I think they felt bad for us and gave us credit anyway." Jim's slowly reaching the point at which he can joke about what happened. He hasn't yet been able to discuss any of it in detail, but hearing the name no longer sends him spiraling. "In any case," he adds, "It's going to be my first day at high school. Any tips?"

Spock leans back and thinks for a moment. He knows when Jim is joking, but Spock always tries to take him seriously. It's a courtesy not many have extended to Jim in his lifetime. They're approaching four years of knowing each other and Spock's fairly certain that Jim still hasn't grown accustomed to this. "Vulcan does not have the same kind of school system as does Earth," he says finally. "We work in pods that adjust according to our school level. From what I understand about Terran School systems, social life is a large part of your schools. I'm afraid the only advice I have to offer is to relax as much as possible and be yourself."

Jim smiles again, softer and more genuine than before. "Alright. I'll give that a good old college try. You should go, though. You're really pushing it with this meeting with T'Pring."

Spock lets out a sigh. "I thought I might arrive fashionably late."

"Is that a thing on Vulcan?"

"I plan on starting a new trend."

Jim laughs. "Yeah, good luck with that. Have fun, Spock."

"Sleep well, Jim." Spock ends the call with a wave of his hand and gets up from his seat. He's wearing vulcan robes again today; usually he'll go with something more casual on a day like this, but meeting T'Pring always makes him want to look and act more vulcan. He knows that it's a shallow performance that T'Pring can easily see through (she is quite intelligent and is not shy about letting people know), but he can't help it.

He stops in front of the mirror and adjusts his collar. The sharp line of it makes his jaw stand out more prominently—or perhaps that's just Spock growing older. He has a brief, foolish thought: has Jim noticed?

Spock shakes his head. Why would Jim care about how sharp Spock's jawline is? He has more important things to worry about—namely, healing from trauma and getting used to a new environment. Spock needs to figure out how to make that process easier for him.

He drives to the restaurant. T'Pring is there waiting for him. Her clothing is a mixture of traditional and contemporary, but she still seems more vulcan than Spock. As he pulls up, she gives him a cool look.

"T'Pring," he says as greeting, and she replies with his name. "I trust you're doing well?"

"Must we extend these niceties to each other, Spock? We are not diplomats."

Spock pauses to process this. Then he says, "Indeed we are not. This was not, however, a nicety. I genuinely want to know how you are doing." He never has to be this careful with Jim. He never speaks this formally with Jim. Perhaps in the first year they'd met, he'd been careful with his words, but it's so much easier with him now. He's known T'Pring for almost as long. Why is it so much harder with her?

She looks at him for a moment and blinks slowly, like a cat would. Then she turns and steps into the restaurant. When she moves, it looks lie she's gliding. When Jim moves, it's with exaggerated swagger, his shoulders pushed back. Spock has seen it countless times when he's moving around his room. "You should order," she says. "I have already selected drinks."

"For me, as well?" Spock asks.

"Yes. You will enjoy what I selected for you." She speaks with such confidence, but there isn't any of that musical lilt that Jim has. He always speaks like he's ready to start singing; T'Pring speaks like she's in a business conference.

"Very well." Spock picks two dishes on the menu and they go to sit down at one of the tables by a big, shaded window. On Earth, Amanda once told him, it's possible to eat outside, but on Vulcan the sun is too hot to stay in one place. When Spock goes to visit Jim, he'll definitely want to try that out.

"You are distracted," T'Pring says. When their drinks arrive, she puts Spock's in front of him. "Drink."

Spock tries it. "I apologize if I seem distracted, T'Pring."

"You should meditate." She raises one eyebrow at him. "How long has it been since you quieted your mind?"

"Too long, likely." When Jim tries to make him feel better, he's usually much more gentle than this, but, then again, Jim knows what it's like to have a too-busy mind.

"I heard about your…adventure," T'Pring says with a knowing look. "You have always been rebellious, Spock, but that surprised me."

Spock tries to be funny: "Good marriages are supposed to be full of surprises."

T'Pring doesn't bite. "Perhaps. I do not think those are the proper surprises, however. Why is it you left Vulcan so suddenly?"

He sips at his drink. It's dark and bitter, but he's finding he quite likes it. Perhaps T'Pring knows him better than he thought. "I received a distressing message from a resident on Tarsus IV and thought it necessary to investigate."

"You could have just sent your father."

"I did not think he would be enough, and I was correct." Their food arrives and Spock stops talking so the waiter can give them their food. "Beyond that, I can't say much," he says. "The information is classified, but I am sure you already knew that."

T'Pring gives Spock a look that's the closest to amusement he's ever seen on her. Then she changes the subject. "This food seems acceptable. Perhaps you have hope after all, Spock."

"Yes," says Spock, "Perhaps I do." And, as always, he thinks of Jim.

[ ]

To: S'chn T'gai Spock

From: James T. Kirk

Subject: School

 

Hey, Spock. Thought you'd be pleased to know that I feel one-hundred percent prepared for today. Okay, maybe I'm a little panicked, but I'll be okay. Probably.

I'm going to die.

Wish me luck.

[ ]

Spock picks up on the fourth ring, which is a little surprising. He's usually more timely than that. Concerned, Jim squints at the darkness that is Spock's room.

"Spock? You okay in there?"

"Yes, Jim. My apologies." Spock comes into view. He's shoving some books into a shoulder bag. "I am arising early for an assessment."

"Oh. Can you not talk, then?" This is strange territory for Jim; with only his time on Tarsus as the exception, they've been calling each other every morning and night for two years.

"No, we can converse for a few minutes." Spock, apparently done packing his bag, snaps it closed and puts it on the floor. "It's your first day of school. Are you excited?"

"Well, I wouldn't necessarily use the word excited, but—Spock!" Jim cuts himself off when Spock grabs the hem of his shirt and pulls it over his head. Spock, shirtless now, blinks at JIm.

"Yes?"

"You can't just. You can't." Jim's stumbling over his words, now. He tries very pointedly not to look at Spock's naked chest but it's so… It's so _there_. He's lean like a runner and his skin is greener where the blood gathers. _Fifteen?_ Jim thinks. _He's fifteen?_

"Is there something wrong, Jim?" Spock, in his confusion, has completely stopped moving and stands instead with his bare chest so big on Jim's screen. "Are you unwell?"

For some reason, Jim thinks, _actually, the opposite_. "Uh," he says, "I just…was wondering why you were getting undressed on camera.'

"I am preparing to go to bed." Spock's glabella creases. "I thought that would be obvious."

Jim's palms are sweating. He wipes them on his pants. How does he explain this to Spock?

"Ah." Spock's looking down at his PADD. "Are customs different on Earth regarding nudity?"

"Yes!" Jim's so relieved over the fact that he doesn't have to explain that his answer comes out in an excited burst.

"Did I make you uncomfortable?" Spock finally finds his sleep shirt and puts it on, but Jim can't help but still notice the swell of muscle beneath the cloth. "If so, I sincerely apologize. I won't do it again."

"No, not uncomfortable, just—" Jim stops. What _had_ he been feeling? Jealousy? It didn't seem like jealousy. "Just surprised," he says, which is as close as he can get for now. "You didn't do anything wrong." He almost adds, "Get undressed in front of me as much as you like" but stops himself just in time.

Spock makes a humming sound as he sits back into his chair. How had Jim never noticed how toned his arms are? "You were going to talk about school."

This whole event had made Jim forget about school entirely. "Oh, yeah. I was just saying that I'm a little freaked out, but it isn't a huge deal." Jim doesn't want to admit that what he's really afraid of is seeing anyone who was on Tarsus IV with him. The doctors always said that Jim should connect with other survivors, but Jim's pretty convinced that doing so would make him worse. "I'll be okay."

"Remember, Jim. You only need worry about yourself. Don't concern yourself with what other people are saying or thinking or doing. Just concentrate on making sure you're safe."

Jim gives Spock a smile that he knows is pained. "Do you want to go with me?"

"I would if I was able, Jim. Believe me."

They talk for a few more minutes, and then Spock needs to sleep and Jim needs to go to school, so they both sign off.

He takes the bus to the school campus.

The school is huge and daunting. It's bustling with students. Jim read somewhere that, in the past, a school in Iowa would have never been this big, but Jim's been cursed to live in a timeline where Iowan schools are like this.

He goes to the front desk.

"Hi! How can I help you?"

"I need a schedule," Jim says.

"Okay!" The receptionist is so bright and happy that Jim feels himself getting happier, like her cheerfulness is infectious. "What's your name?"

"James Tiberius Kirk."

"Oh, Kirk, huh? Like the captain of the Kelvin."

Jim's mood instantly sours. "Yeah," he says, "Exactly like the captain of the Kelvin."

"I've sent your schedule to your PADD. Let me know if you have any questions, okay? There's a help option at the top corner of your schedule if you think of anything."

"Thanks." Jim puts his headphones on, blares some rock music, and steps into the hallway. "Only person you have to worry about is yourself," he tells himself. "No one else." Why couldn't he and Spock live in even slightly similar timezones? This would be more bearable if he could talk to Spock, even if they were just messaging each other.

He finds his first class and takes the seat furthest in the back, hunching over like it'll make him invisible. Usually this works—unless someone in the class makes like the receptionist and says something about the Kelvin, and then students are swarming Jim's desk ad asking him questions about a man he literally never met. It occurs to him now that, if it got out that he was on Tarsus, that would be another thing they might bombard him with. The thought is horrifying.

Other students filter in over the next few minutes, and then the teacher starts the class. He says something about the break they all had, sprinkles in something about Starfleet, that they're all good students and he can't wait for another great year, et cetera, et cetera. Then he says, "And we have a new student joining us!" and Jim sinks in his seat but the introduction is brief and the teacher doesn't make Jim talk, which is perhaps the most blessed thing that's happened today aside from talking with Spock.

The door cracks open now, and Jim's not interested until the teacher's amused voice floats toward him.

"Mr. Kirk, you have a delivery."

Jim looks up. The teacher's holding an armful of flowers—honeysuckles, it looks like, and daisies.

"For me?" His voice seems far away.

"Yes, Mr. Kirk. It seems you already have an admirer on the first day of school."

Jim gets up and receives the flowers. He sits back down with trembling legs. Some of the students glance back at him in curiosity, but when the teacher starts the lecture, they lose interest.

He finds a note tied to the flowers with a glossy blue ribbon. It says:

_On the wake of the morrow,_

_We find ourselves here:_

_Hopeful, golden, singing._

_-S_

Jim presses a hand to his mouth. His heart is so, so full. He feels as though he will burst.

[ ]

To: James T. Kirk

From: S'chn T'gai Spock

Subject: Re: School

 

You'll do fine.

[ ]

Jim's already in bed by the time Spock calls. He's only wearing his shorts this time, and he's got himself propped up on one elbow. When he answers, he says, "Hey, Spock," in a voice that seems much deeper than usual.

Spock decides not to question it. "Hello, Jim. How was your first day at school?"

"Good." Jim clears his throat and his voice returns to normal. "If you've noticed, Spock, I've started working out."

"That's good. Exercise will not only improve your physical health, but the release of endorphins with exercise will also help with your mental health, as well." Spock goes to his PADD to find some articles to send to Jim. "I can send you some papers on the subject, if you would like."

Jim sighs. He releases a breath he'd apparently been holding and buries himself under the blankets. "Sure, Spock. I'd like that."

"Good. They're interesting reads. Did you want to discuss your first day of school anymore?"

Jim's expression brightens. "Yeah! I got your present."

"Present?" Spock feigns confusion.

"Yeah, the…the flowers…" Jim squints at Spock. "You're messing with me."

Spock laughs. "Yes, I am. Did you like it?"

"Yeah, of course I did! How did you know those were my favorite flowers?"

"You told me in one of your emails a few years ago." Spock touches his finger to his temple. "I have a good memory."

"Apparently. I loved it, Spock. Did you write the poem?"

"Yes. It didn't come out as nicely as I wanted it to."

"Well, I still loved it, so stop insulting it so much."

Spock laughs a little more. "Okay, Jim."

"What about you? What's this assessment about?"

"It's a sort of pre-test for the Academy," Spock says, rubbing the back of his neck. "It's a way to assess our progress before we take the official test."

"Are you worried about it?"

"Not particularly. I did mean to tell you, however—I'm making plans to come to Earth. I have some extra funds that I've set aside to visit you, and am almost to the point where I can afford the transportation."

"What?" Jim's so excited that he grabs his monitor with both hands. "Seriously?"

"Yes. My school break is soon, so I am planning to be on Earth by the time it is your birthday. We can celebrate together."

Jim blinks very fast. For a moment he rocks back and forth, silent.

"Jim," says Spock gently, "Are you crying?"

"Maybe." Jim wipes at his cheeks and grins at Spock. "That sounds amazing, Spock. I can't wait."

[ ]

To: S'chn T'gai Spock

From: James T. Kirk

Subject: Excitement!!!!

 

I know it's only been, like, a week since you said you were coming to visit me but !!! !!!!!!! !!!!!!!! This seems unrealistic but maybe you could go to school with me! I could show you all the places I hung out while I was growing up! I'm so excited !!!!!!! !!!!!!!!!!!

[ ]

The plan is simple: send the email, make the call, pose. Jim's got it all down pat. He's even practiced it a few times. The last time didn't work, but _this_ time will.

He sends the email.

He makes the call.

He dives down to the floor and starts doing push-ups.

He isn't entirely sure why he's doing this—is he trying to impress Spock with his commitment? Is he making a point that, eventually, he'll look as good as Spock does?

His computer chimes with the indication that Spock's answered the call. Jim can't see his face, because he won't look up. Will Spock say something? Jim doesn't know what he wants him to say, but he wants him to say at least _something_.

Spock doesn't fail him. "Watch your posture."

Jim's arms lose their strength and he falls on his face. What? He sits up, squinting at the monitor. Spock is looking down at his PADD, apparently busy with something. Was that really all that Spock had to say? "Uh," says Jim, "What?"

"Watch your posture," Spock says again. He's frowning. Jim grabs a t-shirt on the floor to wipe the sweat off his chest and neck. "You could injure yourself if your back and legs aren't straight."

"Are you okay, Spock?"

Spock finally looks up to meet his eyes, and Jim sees that Spock looks a lot more defeated than Jim's ever seen him. "I'm having some problems."

Oh no. "Problems?" Jim's a little embarrassed now. Spock's having issues and he was trying to, what? Show off what nonexistent muscles he had to him? What was he even doing? "What do you mean? Do you want to talk about it?" He doesn't really expect a yes here; Spock's fond of bottling up everything, even when he knows that Jim is more than happy to hear about it. Jim's learned not to let his feelings be hurt over this.

"Well…" Spock rubs his face. When he speaks, his voice is muffled through his fingers. "My father wants me to study abroad."

"Really?" That doesn't seem like Sarek. "Where?"

"It's a Federation research facility. I'd be working with T'Pring and a few other prospective VSA students."

"Okay, so…" Jim drags the last word out for a few seconds. "Is that a bad thing?"

"Yes. In more ways than one. Not only will it totally consume the funds I have set aside to go to Earth, but it will also take up the entirety of the year. I am trying to figure out how to explain this to my father."

Oh. Jim swallows hard. "Well, what are the pros of going?"

"Jim—"

"Just tell me. What are the pros?"

"It would strengthen my relationship with T'Pring and essentially ensure my entrance into the academy."

The sweat that still sits on Jim's skin has gone cold. He finds another shirt and pulls it over his head. "If it's going to help your career, Spock, you should go."

Spock's eyebrows draw together. Jim tries to give him an encouraging smile. "I have already told you that I will not prioritize my career over you, Jim. I am not going."

Jim's been looking forward to seeing Spock again. How could he not? Spock was his best friend—lately, he's been feeling maybe like something a little more that Jim can't quite put his finger on. But Jim doesn't know if he can live with himself if Spock loses this big opportunity just for him—just for, what, a week together? "I'm serious," he says. "We can wait a little longer. Besides, we're both getting older. Soon we'll be able to visit each other whenever we want."

Spock looks doubtful. "Are you sure, Jim? It would be very easy for me to say no."

"I'm sure."

"Maybe the year after."

Jim forces another smile. "Yeah, maybe."

"I'll be living on a fully-staffed research facility. We should have no issues staying in contact. I might even be able to request a schedule that will align with yours."

It's exactly what they'd wished for when Jim had gone to Tarsus. He feels sick.

"We will still spend your birthday together," Spock continues. "We'll call. Eat cake. Whatever you want."

What Jim really wants is Spock here with him. Not just on his birthday. Not just for a week. He wants him all the time. He wants to hold his hand again. He wants Spock to hug him again. He wants to hear his laugh without the digital filter the computer always produces. He wants to experience again what it was like to be near his best friend—to almost feel Spock's emotions through his skin. But he doesn't tell Spock any of this. Instead he just says, "Okay. That sounds good, Spock. Sounds good."

[ ]

To: James T. Kirk

From: S'chn T'gai Spock

Subject: If you don't answer the phone,

 

I won't finish that sentence. Answer.

[ ]

He answers. He's surprisingly more dressed than usual—a clean t-shirt this time, with a pair of blue jeans that seem only slightly stained. He's grinning.

"Feel better?" asks Spock. Jim had been feeling a little more down since Spock had given him the news, but it seems he's crawled out of the gutter for at least a moment.

"A little. I know what I'm wishing for, though."

"Yeah?" Spock pulls up one corner of his mouth. "What's that?"

"I can't tell you. If I do, it won't come true. Did you get cake?"

"I haven't yet. We have a replicator, and I thought we could eat the same kind."

Jim's smile gets wider. "Good idea. I got vanilla."

Spock enters the flavor into his PADD to send to the replicator. "Do you have candles?"

"About to light them."

They haven't discussed yet why Jim is alone on his birthday. Winona isn't a bad person, Jim told Spock once—it's just that, maybe, she shouldn't have been a mother in the first place. She had a career that she loved.

"More than you?" Spock had asked, a little horrified.

"I don't think even she knows it, but yeah," Jim had answered. "That's how it's always been."

So Jim is turning fifteen today in an empty house, and he has to make his own cake, and he has to light his own candles, and he's all alone. Somehow, he's still smiling.

Spock gets the cake from the replicator and holds it up in front of his camera; Jim, seeing it, lights the one lonely candle on his cake. "Happy birthday to me," Jim says.

"Happy birthday, Jim."

 

# YEAR FIVE

 

To: S'chn T'gai Spock

From: James T. Kirk

Subject: I may have a fever

 

Hey Spock. I think I might be a little TOO bored. As in, I actually miss going to school kinda bored. What's up with that?

Anyway, I'm getting my license next week so your best friend's going to be legally driving for the first time in, well, ever. I want a motorcycle. So far I only have access to my mom's car. She says if I get a scratch on it she's making me buy my own vehicle.

[ ]

Spock calls right on time. He has a different background this time—not the bedroom that Jim's grown so used to (he's memorized it so completely he can see it if he closes his eyes)—but instead what looks like a professional facility: sterile, well-lit, and professional.

"You've already arrived?"

"We arrived about an hour ago." Whatever camera that's recording  Spock is moving around a lot; he must be using his PADD instead of a monitor. "I've been exploring unpacking."

"Have you met with T'Pring yet?"

"Yes. We arrived together." Spock moves his hand toward the screen and then the perspective changes, probably to the monitor. Spock goes toward the new camera. "She's been nicer to be around the more we talk to each other. I think that, as soon as we had the understanding that we both just wanted to make the world better, we were able to get along better."

Jim's mouth tastes bitter. "Tell me about the place you're staying. You said it's a Federation research facility?"

"Yes. It's incredible, Jim. I had access to some of the best technology while I was going to school, but this is…it's revolutionary. Some of this technology is still experimental. It would be impossible to get anywhere else." Spock's gushing, and Jim loves it. "This is an incredible opportunity. Understanding this technology will be instrumental in getting a head start with the academy."

Jim's smiling without being able to stop himself. Whenever Spock's happy, it's like he can feel it. Spock once told him that Jim's the only one who can make him smile—maybe, Jim thinks, the whole emotions thing works the other way around.

"I will be working with T'Pring for the majority of my time here," Spock says. "We discussed earlier what sorts of projects we'll be exploring. I am looking forward to being able to discuss these things with her. From what I understand, she has an incredible mind."

He says this with such admiration that Jim feels a spark of jealousy. "Can you talk about the projects?"

"Not in detail, but I might be able to tell you small updates as I go. It is supposed to be largely confidential until we can publish our findings." Spock shrugs. "It is supposed to keep us from forming unintentional biases. Others' feedback might pressure us to ignore or prefer data."

"Yeah, that makes sense. What time is it over there?"

Spock leans back and looks at something next to the monitor. "About four. I am starting my shift in eight hours."

"You should get to sleep, then."

Spock frowns. "Are you sure? We haven't been conversing for long. You haven't told me anything about what you're doing."

"Nothing exciting, Spock, I promise. If you have time before you go to work, I'll come up with something. Get some sleep."

"Very well, Jim. I'll speak to you soon, then."

There's something on the tip of Jim's tongue that he can't bring himself to say. "Sleep well."

Afterward, he leans back in his chair, propping his feet up on the desk. Spock was so, so impressed with T'Pring and so, so excited to work with her. Is he ever that excited to talk to Jim? Probably not—they talk every day. There's no reason to get excited to do something that you do every single day.

But Jim _wants_ him to get excited. He wants to impress him. Last year, he tried to impress him with exercises, and that didn't work—now he just does them in private and hopes that he's making enough of a difference that, when they do meet in person again, Spock will notice. So what _does_ impress Spock? Intelligence, for one. That much is clear, but Jim's pretty sure he isn't about to impress a vulcan with his intelligence. What Jim can accomplish in a few hours doesn't really hold a candle to what Spock can just do in his head.

But…

Jim sits up straighter.

Spock's always so pleased whenever Jim gets his life together some. What if Jim got his life together _completely_? What if he got a job, too? What if he was able to support himself and just go to visit Spock whenever he wanted? That would definitely impress him. Then they could be together.

"Together," Jim whispers to himself. He looks up at the wall above his bed, where he's displayed a collage of all the screenshots he's taken of Spock over the years. "Together," he says again, and he closes his eyes and dreams.

[ ]

To: James T. Kirk

From: S'chn T'gai Spock

Subject: Updates

 

I tried calling you before I sent this message, but you must be either busy or asleep. I will try you again once I get off work. I hope you are doing well. If you're curious, I've attached some descriptions of the work we're doing today. I know you have a keen scientific mind; let me know if you can think of anything.

[ ]

He meets T'Pring in the lab. She's already dressed and ready to go; even the white lab coat looks elegant on her.

"Did you sleep well?" she asks, and Spock raises one eyebrow, surprised.

"Yes. And you?"

"Quite well. They must have imported mattresses from vulcan. I almost cannot tell the difference between here and home."

Spock pulls on the lab coat and fastens the front. Is T'Pring making small talk? She has never been the type. _Vulcans_ are never the type. Spock has no idea how to react to this.

T'Pring saves him the trouble. "Should we begin?"

"Yes." Spock's relieved. He finds his place at the counter. T'Pring finds hers. They both put on their safety goggles.

They work in silence for some time. This is not an issue for Spock, as he is accustomed to working alone from the years he spent in school, and he thought the same would be true for T'Pring. He is wrong.

She speaks up a few hours into their work, almost tentative. "Spock."

"Yes?" He pulls the microscope closer to himself and switches it on.

"What are your plans for the future?"

"I want to join the Academy," Spock says, "But you already know that."

"You will do well," T'Pring says. "Once I believed that someone of your heritage would be unable to be successful in that line of work."

Okay, that stings a little.

"However," T'Pring says, "I do think you will do well. You are more than capable of keeping up and even surpassing your peers. As long as you maintain your control over your emotions—"

"I will," Spock says, tense.

"I have no doubt. Vulcan control comes from biology. Yours is entirely of will. That is…" She pauses her work long enough to look at him over her safety glasses. "It is admirable."

"Thank you." He doesn't know what else to say.

"Do you have any other plans?"

"Not beyond the academy. I think, at some point, I want to go to Earth."

That makes her look at him again. "Is that because you want to know your mother's history?"

Spock hasn't actually ever considered that. "That would be interesting, yes."

"It is not the real reason?"

"I have a friend who lives on Earth."

T'Pring pushes away her work and stares at the table for a moment. Spock's almost concerned. "May I inquire something of a more"—a long, long pause—"personal matter?"

Spock's so alarmed he almost drops the dish he's holding.

"You do not have to say yes," says T'Pring quickly.

"No, T'Pring. Speak freely."

T'Pring works for another few minutes without saying anything at all. Then, very quiet and very fast: "Do you believe vulcans can marry for love?"

Spock chews on this question. "Do you mean politically or do you mean to ask if it is possible for vulcans to love one another romantically?"

She shrugs. "I suppose I mean both. If you find the question foolish—"

"I do not. My parents' marriage was political, T'Pring, but it was also for love. For even someone as traditional as my father, it is possible." He wants to ask why she would bring up such a subject, but she seems nervous enough, and so he decides to change the subject instead.

"What about you, T'Pring? Do you have any plans beyond attending the academy?"

T'Pring's reply is terse. "No. We should concentrate on work."

[ ]

To: S'chn T'gai Spock

From: James T. Kirk

Subject: Re: Updates

 

Sorry!!!! I can't believe it was my fault that our streak broke!! I was taking a nap! Call me whenever I'm available now!

[ ]

Spock's in a lab coat and safety glasses when he answers the call. Jim's never seen him in white before.

"Cool coat," he says, unable to help himself.

"Thank you, Jim." Spock's voice is a little different than it usually is—it has a strange lilt to it that makes just the simplest words sound beautiful. He has a microscope and his PADD in front of him, and he's switching between writing notes on his PADD with a stylus and looking through the lens of the microscope. "Did you sleep well?"

"Yeah, I slept okay. Do you have an accent now?"

"T'Pring demands I speak only in Vulcan while we are in the lab. It is a way to intellectually challenge us while we are working."

Jim laughs. "Is your work not challenging enough?"

"One thing you should understand about vulcans, Jim, is that we always like to do a little more than necessary."

That doesn't surprise Jim at all. "How was your first day at work?"

"Interesting. Strange." Spock taps the stylus against his perfect mouth. "T'Pring asked me a question that I've been thinking about for a while."

"Yeah? Can you talk about it?"

"She asked me if vulcans can marry for love."

"Uh. What? Is this the same T'Pring that you're engaged to?"

"I thought similarly," Spock says. He shrugs and returns to writing on his PADD.

"Did she say why she asked?" Jim worries that the answer will be that she confessed to Spock—that she really does have feelings for him, that they'll live happily ever after. Why does that feel even worse than what it would have been before? Why does Spock being in a happy relationship make Jim more nauseated than Spock being in a miserable relationship?

"She didn't explain herself, no," Spock says. "After we spoke, she had returned more to her…usual self."

So she hadn't confessed to him. Jim hates how relieved he is. "Well, what did you tell her? What was your answer?"

"I just told her what I thought was the truth. Vulcans can get married for love. Even totally reformed vulcans can get married for love." He sticks one finger underneath his lens and scratches at his eye and Jim's heart suddenly swells. He feels breathless. "When I was younger and my parents told me that I was already betrothed, I used to imagine that I would have a relationship like the one my father has with my mother. They both have their issues, but it is easy to tell how they feel about each other. I'm not sure if I will ever have that with T'Pring."

Jim's chest hurts. Is he having a heart attack? He feels almost like he's having a heart attack. "So what are you going to do? Can you break the engagement?"

"I am not sure. I do not think that has ever been done before. I know that I am half-human and thus it would make sense if I broke vulcan tradition but…"

"Do you." Jim swallows. "Do you _want_ to have that kind of relationship with her?"

"No. I like her, but I like her as a friend."

"Maybe she feels the same way. If she was asking about love, maybe she has feelings for someone else. You should talk to her."

"I might," says Spock. "But we have spoken enough about me. What is going on with you? You said in one of your emails that you are getting your license."

The pressure eases some. "Yeah! I'm getting that soon. I'm also looking for a job."

"A job?" Spock, just like Jim wanted, looks both impressed and proud. "Where will you get a job?"

"I'm looking in garages, mostly. I want to work on cars. Maybe I'll get lucky and be able to build my own motorcycle from all the parts."

"That sounds exciting. When I visit Earth, you'll definitely have to give me a ride."

Jim can feel himself turn bright red. "Yeah, Spock. Totally."

 

# YEAR SIX

 

To: James T. Kirk

From: S'chn T'gai Kirk

Subject: Re: Re: San Francisco

 

Truly, we must have the worst timing of any two people in this universe, and you know that I am not one to exaggerate.

[ ]

"In San Fran yet?"

Spock looks out the window. The earbuds are uncomfortable in his ears, but he doesn't want Jim's voice to wake T'Pring, who's fallen asleep across the shuttle's aisle. "Nearly there. I think I can see the Golden Gate Bridge."

"How does it feel to be on Earth?"

"It is exciting," Spock says. "It is very green here. I do not think I have been to a place so green."

Jim laughs. "Yeah, well. You're also in California. There are a lot of trees there. In Iowa, all we have is corn." He sighs and props his head on his hands. He recently got a haircut, Spock notices; it makes him look a little older. When had Jim gotten so much older? Sometimes, if Spock closed his eyes, he could still see Jim when he was twelve years old and grinning at his camera. "God, Spock. I can't believe we're on the same planet for the first time in three years and we still can't see each other."

"Not to point any fingers," says Spock, "But it is entirely your fault."

"Listen. I'm trying to make money. I'm trying to be a responsible adult." Jim straightens an invisible tie. "I'm sixteen now, you know. I need to support myself. Maybe a year more of this and I have enough money to permanently get out of this hellhole."

"I can still try to stop in Iowa after the conference," Spock says. "Even if it was just for an afternoon, we could still see each other."

"Would love that," Jim says. "Unfortunately, I'm going to be out of town."

"Seriously?"

"Yeah. Work's sending me on this mini road trip to fix this ancient gasoline-run car. I'm supposed to fix it up so it runs on, you know, clean energy."

"Can I meet you there?"

Jim snorts. "You know I can't just give up peoples' addresses like that. Don't worry about me, Spock. We'll figure this out some day. We'll get the timing right some day."

"Some day," Spock says, and smiles back at Jim "I sent you something in the mail. Did you get it?"

"You sent me something in the mail? Like the mail-mail?"

"Yes, Jim. The mail-mail."

"One sec." Jim disappears for a few minutes, and Spock's left with Jim's empty room. It's slowly become more organized over the years, and Jim's also been slowly cleaning it out. He wants his departure to be as clean as possible, he explained to Spock.

"A letter?" Jim's back and holding Spock's gift in his hand.

"Open it," Spock says, and Jim grins at him and tears it open.

"Spock."

Spock realizes he's been holding his breath. "Yes?"

Jim turns the paper around so Spock can see it. "What the hell does this say?"

Spock can't help but laugh. This was his first attempt at standard in years. For such a long time, he's been writing in vulcan—whether it was in emails to Jim, or if it was in reports to school. If somebody couldn't read vulcan, the universal translator did its job. The universal translator does not, however, work on paper, and so Spock had to do his best to write in a language he'd never written in before.

"This is—Spock, this is completely incomprehensible. It looks like." Jim pauses, apparently searching for a good comparison. "It looks like you closed your eyes through the whole thing, is what it looks like. Why are there so many curls?"

Spock's still laughing, but he's trying to stifle it behind his free hand that isn't holding his PADD.

"Seriously, Spock, this is…it's awful. I can't read any of this. Is the first word 'tough'?"

"Though," says Spock, finally composing himself. "The first word is 'though'."

"Spock, you have to translate this."

"It's a quote from a Terran poet named Sarah Williams. 'Though my soul may set in darkness, it will rise in perfect light. I have loved the stars too fondly to be fearful of the night.'"

Jim nods a few times, his lips pressed together. "That's…yeah. That's good. Thanks, Spock. Can't read it at all, but it's good. I'll just…I'll remember what it says."

Spock loses his composure again. "That would probably be best."

"I'll send you a letter too, Spock, and I'll send it in vulcan. You'll see just how painful it is." Jim's words are teasing, but both his eyes and his hands are gentle as he looks down at Spock's gift.

"I look forward to it. For now, though, we must part. The shuttle is landing."

"Okay, Spock." Jim kisses his fingers and then blows it at the screen. "Talk to you later."

Spock hangs up and tucks his earbuds and his PADD into his pocket.

"Who was that?"

Spock realizes that T'Pring is watching him. He has no idea how long she's been awake. "That was my friend James."

"Your friend from Earth?"

"Yes. He lives in a place called Iowa. We were not able to organize a meeting, however."

T'Pring studies Spock for a long moment. She asks, "Are you in love with him?"

And Spock, without thinking, says, "Yes."

[ ]

To: S'chn T'gai Spock

From: James T. Kirk

Subject: presentation

 

Let me know how the presentation goes, Spock! I'm going to take a nap, but we should talk when you're done, alright?

[ ]

He wakes up in jail.

It takes him a moment to catch his bearings. He knows that he had dreams last night—awful dreams. Dreams about Tarsus. He hadn't dreamed about Tarsus in a long time. If he did, it was usually too jumbled to make any sense of it, or at least he couldn't remember what he'd dreamed and just woken up afterward with a vague sense of discomfort.

This time, though, he remembered everything.

Jim sits up in his cell and rubs at his face.

He'd thought about calling Spock, initially, because he'd known that Spock would have answered. But Spock at the time was in an important meeting with T'Pring and his parents and probably all the rest of the significant people in the Federation talking about all the amazing things he'd done while he was living in the research facility, and Jim knew that, if he called Spock, he would answer. So he _couldn't_ call. He would have been a bad person if he did.

So he'd crawled out of bed, gotten dressed in the first outfit he saw, and drove to the bar.

Technically, he wasn't allowed in bars. According to the rules, he won't be allowed in them for a few more years, but it's Iowa. What else is there to do? If he hadn't gone to a bar, he would've probably gone to destroy property like what every other Iowan teenager did when they got bored.

He'd gone inside the bar. He remembers that much. After that?

Something must have gone wrong.

Jim groans and rubs harder at his face.

"James Kirk?" A guard steps up next to Jim's cell and presses a button. The door swings open. "You're free to go."

Jim just frowns. "What?"

"You're free to go."

"How?"

"Someone's posted bail for you. They're waiting in the lobby. You can collect your things as you exit."

Jim's never seen the man in the lobby before in his life. He's an older gentleman with salt-and-pepper hair. Distinguished. Exactly the type Jim avoids, because he's exactly the type to give Jim a lecture.

"Alright," says Jim, pulling on his leather jacket he'd just received from the front desk. His keys are still inside the pocket, but his car's still, he imagines, at the bar. "Do you know my mom, or did you know my dad?"

He expects this question to catch the man off guard—whenever some professional-looking person shows up, they're here because of one of Jim's parents, but none of them expect Jim to call them out for it.

But this guy? This guy just looks amused. He stands, tucks something under his arm—a hat, Jim realizes, with the Starfleet insignia, and his jacket has the same insignia—and walks toward Jim.

"Both, actually," he says. "Well, I didn't personally know your father, but I did know of him."

Jim snorts. "So did everyone else, man. Thanks for the bail, but you can spare me the lecture."

"How about I buy you a meal," the guy says, "And you hear me out?"

"Not interested."

"No lecture, I promise. I want to make you an offer."

Jim pauses with his hand on the door.

"Just an hour. We go get a bite to eat, I make you an offer. You don't have to say anything, and I'll even give you a ride back to the bar so you can get your car."

Jim bites the corner of his lip. "Where are we going?"

They go to this hole-in-the-wall diner just outside of town that the guy says has _the_ best pie. Jim's never been.

"My name's Chris," the guy says when they find themselves a table. He looks at Jim over his menu. "Christopher Pike. I'm sure you've already figured out that I'm a member of Starfleet."

"Commander," says Jim. "Freshly promoted?"

Pike gives him that amused look again. "How could you tell?"

"Pin looks new." Jim tosses the menu to the end of the table. "So what do you want from me?"

Pike is still browsing through the pie selection. "I've heard about you, James, and not just because of your parents. You're excelling in school, but in your free time…" He makes a vague gesture at Jim without looking up.

"This is sounding a lot like it's about to be a lecture, Commander."

"It isn't. It's encouragement." Pike folds his menu and looks at Jim very seriously. "I think you should join Starfleet."

Jim's so surprised that he just laughs at him.

"I'm not joking, James. I really think you should join Starfleet."

"I've seen what Starfleet does to people," Jim says. "It killed my dad and it kept my mom from her family."

"And what are you afraid it will do to you?"

The waiter comes to take their orders. Jim can't meet Pike's gaze anymore.

"James, what are you so afraid of?"

Tarsus IV. He doesn't want to say it out loud. What if he finds another place like Tarsus IV? What if going back to space will bring everything back at once? What if he's trying to do his job and someone mentions Tarsus IV and he just freezes? What if he gets people killed?

He tries to brush it off: "Look, Commander, Starfleet? Not for me. Not for people like me."

"Geniuses? I saw your test scores, Jim. It's a wonder that people aren't already scouting you."

"They have been. I'm getting very good at turning people down."

"Starfleet made both of your parents heroes, Jim. You don't want that for yourself?"

Jim's mind immediately goes to Spock. "I want one thing out of my life, Commander, and it isn't to become a hero."

"What about to make a difference?"

The pie arrives. Jim picks up his fork.

"Can't do that with Starfleet."

"Why not?"

"Starfleet isn't dependable." He takes a bite. It's actually pretty good.

"Your father didn't die because Starfleet wasn't dependable, James. He died because of an anomaly in space that risked the lives of everyone on his ship, and he decided to sacrifice himself for them. For you."

Jim's mouth tightens.

"Or is it your mother? I know she has an unmatched work ethic. People in Starfleet find that admirable, but I imagine you don't have the same opinion of that work ethic."

Another angry bite.

"Or," says Pike, "Was it something else?"

"Look," says Jim. "I'm losing my patience. You have anything else to say, or are you going to just keep psycho-analyzing me? Do you want to know about my shitty childhood, too, or is that too uncomfortable for you?"

"What I want to know," says Pike, remarkably patient at a time when most people would have just gotten pissed off enough to leave, "Is why you distrust me so much."

"Don't take it personally. I don't trust any authority figures."

"What did Starfleet do?"

"It's what Starfleet didn't do, Commander. If I didn't have the connections I did…" He ends that train of thought, finishes off the rest of the pie, and flags down the waiter. "Can I get coffee? Just a giant mug of coffee? Thanks."

"Does this have anything to do with what happened when you were thirteen?"

"Nothing happened when I was thirteen," Jim says.

"Are you sure about that?" Pike has too much knowledge behind his eyes. Jim hates it.

"I'm pretty sure. I was there the whole time. Thank you." Jim accepts the cup of coffee and sips at it. It's too bitter. "Are you done yet? I have things to do tomorrow and need to get home."

"Just one more thing, James." Pike leans forward, folding his hands in front of himself. He hasn't even touched his pie. "You're right. Starfleet has let you down more than once. But you can change that. If you go into Starfleet, you can change that."

"It isn't my responsibility to fix your broken system." Jim slides out of the booth. "Thanks for the pie. I'll take the bus home."

[ ]

To: James T. Kirk

From: S'chn T'gai Spock

Subject: Re: presentation

 

Jim,

Apparently the Federation recorded the entire presentation. I have attached the portion that includes myself and T'Pring; the rest is available, if you would like to view that, as well.

[ ]

The circles under Jim's eyes are bigger than usual. Spock's immediately concerned.

"What happened to you?"

"Got into a fight." Jim turns his face and brandishes a fresh bruise on his jaw. "I'm going to call her 'Stacey.'"

"Why did you get into a fight? What happened? Why didn't you call me?"

"You were in that big important meeting, Spock. I wasn't going to interrupt that. I saw your email, though. I'm glad it went so great."

"Don't change the subject, Jim. With whom did you fight?"

"I'm…not really sure. I can't remember."

"What do you mean you can't remember?"

"I…woke up in jail?" Jim smiles and does this little half-shrug that makes Spock's heart stutter. "I was thinking about using my phone call to call you, but this guy showed up and bailed me out."

"What guy?" Spock feels a spark of jealousy that he immediately shoves down—he shouldn't be feeling jealousy. Jim isn't his.

"Name's Christopher Pike. Ever heard of him?"

Spock thinks for a moment. "He sounds familiar. Is he in Starfleet?"

"Yeah. He knew my parents, but then again who doesn't, right?"

What would a Starfleet commander be doing in Iowa, and what would he want with Jim?

"Anyway," says Jim, pulling off his shirt, "He wants me to join Starfleet."

Spock admires his own self-composure. "What did you—what did you say?"

Jim shrugs again. He bends out of frame, finds a tank, and yanks it over his head.  "I basically told him to shove it. I'm not joining Starfleet."

"Why not?"

"Why not? Come on, Spock. It was Starfleet being completely irresponsible that made it possible for Kodos to kill four thousand people."

"Was that Starfleet as a whole, or was it individuals?"

"Does it matter? They're all part of the same system." He stops now and takes in a deep breath. "Okay, you know what? I don't want to get angry at you for the same reason I got angry at Pike. You know what happened. What do you think about me joining Starfleet?"

Earlier in their relationship, Spock would be a lot more careful about his answer; Jim was once a lot more touchy about people telling him what to do with his life, but they'd gotten to the point in their relationship that Jim was more than willing to listen to what Spock had to say. "I think it's a good idea. You're qualified enough to enter any branch—engineering and science, certainly, but, above all, command."

"Command," Jim echoes. "Why command?"

"You have a way with people," Spock says. "Your natural instinct is to help, and that is an important quality to have as a leader in Starfleet. You would be a good captain, Jim."

"Yeah? Why else should I join?"

"If you wanted to make changes, it would be easiest to make them within the system, and it would most certainly be easiest the higher ranking you are. On a more selfish note, the Vulcan Sciences Academy and Starfleet work together often. It wouldn't be surprising if they placed me on one of the starships or on a Starfleet base as a scientific consultant. Out of all your options, this is the best option if you want us to work together."

Jim listens to all this attentively, his face planted in his hands, his elbows planted on the desk. When Spock's done, he says, "Okay. I'll try it out."

"Really?"

"Yeah. I'll try it out. I'll just…push through the nightmares, I think."

"You don't have to." Spock searches for his PADD and unlocks it. "We can set up some appointments for you. You don't have to hold this trauma in, Jim, and I am nowhere near qualified to adequately help you."

"You _have_ been helping me, Spock," says Jim, quiet. "But…yeah, you're right. Let's set up some appointments."

"You'll get better."

"I know" Jim gives Spock a soft, beautiful smile. "I know I will."

[ ]

To: S'chn T'gai Spock

From: James T. Kirk

Subject: Banquet

 

Jim,

The banquet is today. I wish you were here.

[ ]

Jim cries when Spock goes back to Vulcan.

It shouldn't be a huge deal—it really shouldn't. For almost the entirety of the time they've known each other, Spock has been on Vulcan. For almost the entirety of the time they've known each other, they've been that far apart. But this time it feels different. They were so close to seeing each other, and it still didn't work out.

Spock calls Jim on the shuttle back and as soon as his face lights up Jim's screen, Jim loses what little hold he has over his emotions and just starts crying.

"Oh, Jim." Spock's hand lifts toward the screen and then falls back. "I know it is frustrating, but we will see each other."

Jim's alone in a hotel room and he's crying into the quilt of his bed. "I don't know, Spock. Sometimes it feels like the universe is pulling us apart."

"We will not let it, Jim. Can you look at me?"

Jim, sniffling, nods at his PADD.

Spock's voice is so gentle. "In the wise words of my best friend," he says, "We'll kick the universe's ass before it tears us apart. We will see each other again. We will see each other soon."

"No more inconveniences," Jim says. "No more!"

The smile that Spock gives him seems smaller than usual. "No more," he says. "I promise. I will speak to my parents soon about arranging a trip. Should I come there, or would you like to come here?"

Spock's sleepy. Jim can tell. He's never seen Spock like this before and he loves it. "You've been to Earth. How about I have a trip to Vulcan?"

"It'll be your first…" Spock's eyelids droop, but he forces them open. "It'll be your first long trip through space in a while."

"Yeah, but I can handle it." Jim's tears are fading, and it's entirely because of the expression on Spock's face. He imagines he must have seen him like this while they were staying in the hospital together, but it's different now, partly because Jim didn't just come out of a traumatizing situation and partly because Jim's not drugged out of his mind. "Have you gotten any sleep, Spock?"

"No, not particularly." Spock rubs his face. "I apologize for not being lucid, Jim. I stayed up late to make sure I had everything ready to return to Vulcan."

"It's okay. You should get some sleep. I'll stay here with you." Jim sits up a little more traces the line of Spock's jaw on his screen, wishing with all that he was that he could be there next to Spock, letting Spock lean on his shoulder, maybe holding Spock's hand.

"Jim." Spock's voice is slurred now; his eyes are completely closed and he's leaning his head on the corner of his seat.

"Yeah, Spock?"

"I love you."

Jim's heart is so, so full. "I love you too, Spock," he says, suddenly choked up again. "Get some sleep."

 

# YEAR SEVEN

 

Dear Jim,

 

There's a certain amount of intimacy related to hand-writing letters like this. I feel exposed. I know we've been sending each other paper letters for some time now, but I do not think I am yet used to it. Do you feel you have gotten any better at it?

Like I promised, I am still speaking to my parents about arranging a trip for you to come here. There is a diplomatic event coming soon; I am hoping they'll use their plus-one to let you in. It has gotten to the point where most of my free time is spent plotting up ways to get you here.

 

Yours,

Spock

[ ]

"Okay, first thoughts." Jim's squinting at Spock's letter. "I can read…half of this. Maybe."

"Better than the last time," Spock says through his laughter. "What did I get last time?"

"Three words." Jim brings the letter closer to his face, and then holds it at arm's length. "I read three words last time. Your e's are starting to look less like treble clefs, though, so that's a good sign."

"I miss the treble clefs," says Spock. "I thought it added musical flair."

"It added _something_."

"You're certainly quick to insult me for someone whose vulcan is so terrible that even the universal translator can't figure out what you're trying to say." Spock finds the last letter Jim wrote and holds it up so Jim can see. "Vulcan is supposed to be a beautiful language, Jim. How did you mess up so badly?"

"I can't connect all the letters! It doesn't make sense!"

"You have to use your intuition! If the letters won't connect naturally, then you make them connect!"

Jim's laughing so hard he has to wipe tears away from his eyes. "Isn't your dad always saying that only vulcans can master the language? At least I have an excuse. You _speak_ standard and you're constantly reading things in standard, so what's your excuse?"

"My excuse is that I cannot suppress the artist in me. I have an inherent drive to make ugly things beautiful."

"Adding curls to everything doesn't make it beautiful. It just makes it totally incomprehensible."

Spock's cheeks hurt from smiling so wide. He leans back in his chair and studies his friend. Jim's grown handsome over the years. All the soft curves of his face have turned into sharp edges; his eyes have gotten more intensely blue; his hair has darkened. But his smile remains the same—crooked, mischievous, and lightning-fast. I love him, Spock thinks. I love him, I love him, I love him.

"What are you thinking about, Spock?" Jim waves his hand a little. "You seemed a little out of it there."

Spock decides to be honest—at least partially so. "I was thinking about you. I feel like we are close, Jim."

Jim tilts his head. "Yeah?"

"I have even begun preparing the room where you will stay. My mother says it is premature."

Jim laughs behind his hand. "What, will we not be staying in the same room?"

"No, we definitely will. I was referring to my own room."

"Good thing. Otherwise I might have rioted. Your dad _really_ won't like me then."

"Unfortunately," Spock says, "There is not much you can do to fix that."

"I'll win him over. You'll see. He'll like me."

"I do not even know if he likes _me_."

"Then I'll make sure he likes both of us. And our relationship." Jim pauses. " _And_ our plans for the future."

"If anyone can do it, it's you."

Jim poses for a moment at the compliment. "What about your mom? Will she like me?"

"From what I understand, she adores you."

"Really?"

"We discuss you often. She is a fan."

Jim smiles big. "Awesome. Do you think she'll ask for my autograph?"

"I do not think she is a fan in that way, but I can convince her to ask." Spock checks the clock. "I should go. I am supposed to meet her at the cafe in half an hour, and you need to get your sleep."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. I'll sleep." Jim winks at Spock. "Love you."

It is something he has begun to say at the end of every call now since Spock returned to Vulcan, and every time he says it, Spock feels warmth spread through his body. He does not entirely know why this started, but he is not about to complain. "I love you too, Jim," he says, and they both hang up.

Spock goes to meet Amanda at the cafe. It's the same cafe at which he usually meets T'Pring—the same cafe where he and T'Pring agreed to figure out how to break their agreement. He's come to associate positive memories with it.

"Spock." Amanda stands as he approaches and embraces him. "How was your talk with James?"

 "Interesting as always. We discussed our total inability to write in languages other than our own."

Amanda smiles. "He knows that he could write in standard and you would still understand it, doesn't he?"

"Well aware, yes." Spock picks up the cup of tea Amanda had ordered for him and tries it. "He is, however, aware of the struggle I go through to write in standard, and thus feels it necessary to make the same effort. Jim is like that."

"Always up for the challenge?"

"Always." Spock tries the tea again, but he doesn't really taste it. "Mother, I wanted to discuss something with you."

"Go ahead, Spock. Anything."

"The diplomatic event coming up—the banquet the ambassador's are holding."

"What about it?"

"I understand that you have a plus-one. I was thinking that we could use that for Jim so he can attend with us. It would be a good opportunity for him to connect with Federation and Starfleet officials, and afterward he could spend a week or so with us while we're away from home."

Amanda just says, "Hm."

"We can organize another time to do this, but this would be the best time. Jim is free and, because we'll be attending this event, so, too, will I. Work is giving me time off to go."

"Hm," says Amanda again.

"We have already decided to make sure that we will meet again this year," Spock continues, a little more nervous. "If we cannot do this, we will both have to take time off work. Do you think it will be possible?"

"Hm," says Amanda one more time.

"Mother. If you do not want to, you can just say no."

"No, Spock, of course I want to. You know that I like James and that I would love to meet him. You have no idea how jealous I am of your father that he got to meet James before me."

"But?"

"But…I used my plus-one already."

"What? On whom?"

"On you, Spock."

Spock puts down his cup of tea. "I…was under the impression that I was included in the invitation."

"No, Spock. It was only for ambassadors and other important figures in the Federation. Once you accomplish more in the academy, I'm sure—"

Spock stands. His legs feel shaky. "Excuse me." He stammers out some excuse that he needs to use the restroom or that he needs to go outside or perhaps some combination of the two, and he stumbles away.

[ ]

Dear Spock,

 

Is this legible yet? I feel like it is. I'm checking every single line with the universal translator and so far it's recognized the word "is." Well, the first letter of the word "is," but you know what? Close enough. I feel like you'll grasp at least a third of this. Maybe a fourth.

How did the talk with your mom go? Any luck? (That definitely wasn't legible at all. I feel like I'm getting worse.)

I should end this letter before I hurt your eyes. We'll talk about all this anyway. You'll make fun of me. I'll make fun of you. That's just how it goes, right?

 

Love,

Jim

[ ]

"Spock, don't feel so bad." Jim tries to be comforting at the news, even as he feels his chest caving in. "We'll figure this out. I mean, we both have money now. I can leave this place whenever I need to. Just let me know when and where and I'll be there."

Spock gets this expression on his face that looks somewhere between happy and overwhelmed. "We can meet once the meeting is over. You can meet me at my house when we return and we will spend a few weeks together."

Jim leans his head on one of his hands and flutters his eyelashes. It's a foolproof way to make Spock's cheeks turn green. "Sounds good to me."

Spock, sure enough, looks a little more flushed. "We won't let our circumstances hold us back."

"Absolutely not. But you know what, Spock?"

"Yes, Jim."

"I have a feeling that, if we meet again, it's going to be pretty hard to get us back apart."

Spock laughs. He has such a beautiful laugh. "I don't doubt it."

"Maybe I could just live there. You think I'd be able to get into the VSA?"

"I would say no, but I also know that you won't take that for an answer."

"What about a Starfleet academy? Do you have any of those?"

"Not to my knowledge."

"We'll figure something out." Jim leans toward the camera. "I miss you."

"I miss you too, Jim."

"Once I get there, I'm never letting you out of my sight. You'll get sick of me."

"I doubt that. We've been speaking to each other every morning and every night and I have yet to reach that point."

"Even if you do, I hope you know I'm still not going to stop bothering you."

"You better not. It would be a shame for you to come all the way to Vulcan and then avoid me."

"Do you have plans for what we're going to do when I get there?"

Spock takes out his PADD, where Jim knows he's started a list. "Well, firstly, I want to show you around my house. You will get to see all the rooms you've been seeing through the camera, but this time you will see them in person."

Jim chuckles at this. "What else?"

"The gardens outside my house. The school I went to, so you can see the pods you're so indignant about."

"Pods are _weird_ ," says Jim with feeling. "Isolating children can only lead to trouble. But keep talking."

Spock scrolls down in the memo. "I want to show you the academy. I want you to meet T'Pring."

"I haven't decided yet if we're going to get along," Jim says. "I mean, on one hand? I adore her. She's hilarious and she didn't get on your back about wanting to break the engagement. On the other hand, though? She's definitely going to hate me."

"T'Pring is…" Spock seems to be searching for the right word. "Temperamental."

"For a vulcan, or just…in general?"

"Both."

"I'm _definitely_ looking forward to meeting her, then. This is either going to be a relationship in which we love each other or hate each other, and I can't wait."

Spock gets serious. "You have to get along, Jim. My best friend and my fiancee cannot hate each other. It would be unacceptable."

"Oh, shut up. You're only engaged in name. If you were actually engaged to anyone, it would be me." Jim says this with such confidence that he almost doesn't process that he says it. It's a wonder his face hasn't turned bright red by now.

But then Spock answers: "We cannot get engaged until we meet in person again, Jim."

Jim grins. "Makes sense to me. Anything else you want to show me?"

"We will figure it out as we go. Your seeing Vulcan is not exactly the priority of this trip."

"Doubt I'll be looking at any of it, anyway," says Jim. "Not to hurt your feelings or anything, but I feel like, even if you show me something really culturally important or whatever, I'll just be looking at one thing and one thing only."

Spock turns green again. "What's that, Jim?"

Jim hides his mouth behind one hand. "Ambassador Sarek, obviously."

Spock's mouth drops open. "Jim!"

Jim's breathless with laughter. "I'm kidding! I'm kidding. You're obviously way more fun to look at than your dad."

"I would _hope_ so. My father is already taken."

Jim, encouraged by all the little things he's slipped into this conversation so far that Spock has received positively, is suddenly courageous. "So are you, Spock," he says. "Don't you forget it."

[ ]

Dear Jim,

 

I feel as if I should write this in an email instead of attempting to write it in standard, but we have a tradition now that I refuse to break.

I requested the time off work, and they approved. I just need to work a few extra weekends to make up for it, which is not a problem at all. Everything is going to work perfectly. You'll see.

 

Yours,

Spock

[ ]

"Just a week longer." Spock pulls on the long-sleeved black shirt that he has to wear underneath his vulcan robes. "We can wait that long, can't we?"

Only Jim's face is lit up by his screen; the rest is just darkness. But he's smiling. "Yeah. I think we got this. We are the kings of waiting, you know. You're going to take lots of pictures for me, right?"

"Of course, Jim." Spock takes his robe out of his suitcase and smooths it out onto his bed.

"I've got to go, but text me if you want, okay? We can talk afterward."

"Very well. I look forward to it." They both hang up and Spock finishes getting dressed. This is the most formal he has ever been—at the presentation he'd made in San Francisco the year before, he'd certainly dressed formally, but it was more modern by vulcan tastes to match in with the rest of the vulcans in the city. Here, on Vulcan, he has to dress traditionally.

He looks in the mirror before he leaves to join his parents. Has he changed as much as Jim? Does Jim think he is as handsome as Spock thinks Jim is?

"Spock," Amanda raps her knuckles on his hotel door. "It's time to go."

"Where is father?"

"He'll meet us there." Amanda comes closer to Spock and puts her hand on the side of his face. "You look handsome, sweetheart."

Spock sighs. "Thank you, mother."

"I know you're disappointed that Jim's here. Maybe I can take a picture of you later so you can send it to him?"

"Maybe."

They go together to the banquet. It is busier than Spock anticipated, filled with more kinds of people than Spock has ever seen. He is a little overwhelmed.

<There are too many people here> he texts to Jim, and the three dots immediately pop up that indicates Jim is typing a reply.

<Well, it's a banquet. You'll be fine.>

Spock smiles a little, comforted. His PADD buzzes with another message.

<At least you have the comfort of knowing you're rocking those robes.>

This makes Spock laugh under his breath, but then he frowns. <Did my mother send you a picture of me?> He hadn't noticed her taking a picture, but he wouldn't put it past her to be that subtle about such a thing. He's found many pictures from when he was younger of which he has no recollection.

<Look to your left.>

His left? Frowning even deeper, Spock looks to his left. There are just more diplomats and ambassadors, busy talking and drinking.

And then Spock sees him. He's leaning against one of the building's pillars, hair tousled, suit neat, a smile on his face that is so _him_.

All the air leaves Spock's lungs. He feels dizzy. "Jim?" he says this out loud, even as he knows there is no way Jim would be able to hear him.

"Go," Amanda whispers, nudging him. "Go to him."

Spock wants to run to Jim, but his legs refuse to listen to him. He feels almost in a dissociative state as he walks up to Jim—handsome, beautiful, wonderful Jim—and Jim watches him walk closer, and he grins and swirls his drink around in his crystal glass.

"Dressed up real pretty for you," Jim says as a greeting.

Spock's legs are numb. "You did not exactly have a choice. There is a dress code. If you had arrived in your normal attire, I believe you would be forcibly removed."

Jim laughs. It's such an incredible sound to hear in person. Spock's almost afraid to reach forward and touch him—to break the illusion. "My normal attire is _fine_."

"Your normal attire," Spock says, "Is boxer shorts and a t-shirt. Vulcans are a peaceful people and incredibly gracious hosts, but I think such an outfit would cause even one of them to lose their patience."

Jim steps away from the pillar, closer to Spock. He leans forward so his lips brush Spock's ear. "If I kiss you," he whispers, "Would that make them lose their patience too?"

Spock's heart is racing. He reaches forward with one hand and touches two fingers to Jim's hand. "Not if," he murmurs, "We're careful enough."

Jim pulls Spock behind the pillar and he kisses him. He kisses him like he can't breathe and Spock will give him air. He kisses him like he's been waiting his entire life for it. He kisses him like they've been separated by circumstances for almost half a decade and he can't get enough of Spock.

"How?" Spock breaks away and holds Jim's face in his hands, close to tears. "How are you here?"

Jim's smile is so big and so beautiful that Spock can't help but kiss him again. "Both of your parents had a plus-one to this party. Your dad used his for me."

"You collaborated with my _father_ for this?"

Jim laughs and presses another kiss to the corner of Spock's mouth. "Yeah. I told you I'd get him to like me. Wait, wait." Jim puts a finger on Spock's mouth, which just makes him blush. "Wait until you hear this. You'll be ten times happier."

"I am not sure I could be any—"

Jim leans closer. "Taluhk nash-veh k'dular, ashayam."

Spock can't move for a long minute. "You know vulcan." His voice, when it finally comes back, is weak.

"I learned some! The important stuff. I know how to say hello, and also thank you, and also how to do the greeting with the ta'al, and, well. That."

"When did you—"

"I've been learning for a while." Jim grins. "I wanted to impress you. Did it work?"

"Jim, you…" Spock has no idea what to say. Jim laughs loud.

"I'm going to count that as a yes. How was my accent?"

Spock's eyes are wet. "Atrocious, Jim. Truly atrocious."

"But you understood me!"

"Yes, ashayam." Spock pulls him closer and just hugs him—just holds him, just takes him in. "Taluhk nash-veh k'dular," he whispers into Jim's ear. "You're finally here."

 

# Several Years Later

 

To: S'chn T'gai Spock

From: James T. Kirk

Subject: Destination Enterprise

 

I'll meet you on board, baby.


End file.
